


Where The Lost Children Go

by Adertily



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Catradora as parents, Childhood Trauma, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Found Family, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Just a spoon of angst... whops, Kid Fic, Panic Attacks, Swearing, but like its very very mild and only a sentence or two, catradora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adertily/pseuds/Adertily
Summary: In which the war orphans adopt a war orphan.Catra and Adora stumble across a group of scrappy youngsters, including Finn, living alone in the Crimson Waste. They offer to take them to the children's home Scorpia reformed from the old Horde barracks. But by the time Darla makes the trip, they find there’s a little someone who’s snuggled into the deepest, most treacherous crevices of their hearts. And they can’t make themselves let go.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 326
Kudos: 1046





	1. Chapter 1

Catra had bitten her the first time they’d met. Canines barely sharp enough to pierce the skin of Adora’s arm as a growl rumbled from her throat. A babyish and angry sound. But Adora hadn’t flinched, hadn’t run away or squealed as Catra expected. She’d just laughed, and to Catra’s ears, the noise was a melody as sweet as honey. 

It was such a quiet memory, they’d been so young then, and time had turned the images dim like a flame through the sooted window of a lantern. Pieces missing, fragments hazy. 

What little remained was jerked back into her periphery the moment she felt the sting around her wrist, because apparently, for the two of them, Cupid had never bothered to use an arrow. 

He’d used teeth. 

* * *

Earlier 

Being home was nice, Catra thought. 

The stillness of the universe had welcomed them back each time; Darla floating through a silent and empty ocean of obsidian, starlight like dust across the horizon. And a peace that seemed to reach into the most shadowed corners of her soul, infinite, calming. 

Catra could breathe out here. 

It had called to them all - for a while. The adventure of it, the longing to discover what lived beyond the second star on the right, always more, always further. To worlds that had needed them, and to worlds that had not. 

Catra found forgiveness in the faces of those who did know what she’d done, only what she was doing - it was healing. And it was beautiful. 

Years had passed that way, and it had been serene. Lazy mornings waking amongst linen and nestled against the warm body of the women she loved. The galaxies outside held thousands of dazzling playgrounds to explore, but it was this, Catra acknowledged, the quiet moments amongst rumpled bedsheets, that she found herself waiting for at the end of every day. 

They had no commitments to return to. Glimmer left her kingdom in the hands of her father; the weight of a monarchy could be relieved until she was a little older, Micah had explained. He’d been king once before, he could do it again.

Adora had done her best to map their travels, whole constellations immortalised on paper in pencil and ink. Catra tried her hardest not to smudge the notes, but the desk just seemed so much more appealing to sprawl over with Adora working at it. 

Eventually, home always pulled them back. Voyages spanning months turning into weeks, discoveries becoming visits as less and less _new_ become available to them. Their feet returned to the soil of a planet that had raised them. _Home._ For the first time returning with a nostalgia that sat like a weight in her chest. 

And Catra wasn’t certain at what point it had happened, their last trip? Or maybe a handful ago? But with the cosmos in harmony again, and the binding fraying from the last pages of Adora’s cartography journal, the wanderlust had simply left their veins. 

And being home was _nice_ , Catra thought. 

* * *

The farmers market was vibrant. 

Adora let herself breath it in, the moment flooding her senses, the air spiced with cardamom and cinnamon and a hundred other things. The sound of conversations, but too entangled to make out individual notes, like the buzzing of cicadas in the early evening. Crimson sand under her feet making its way between her toes through the open gaps of her sandals, and an audacious sun overhead that had repainted the blue of the sky into something pale and dusty. But pretty somehow, like a lazy summer’s day.

And it was goddamn hot, though Catra had chosen a much harsher expletive. The temperature seemingly the one thing about this place that had stayed the same. 

The Crimson Waste had become a misnomer, over time. 

The Horde had released its tendrils like the vines of a creeper ripped down from a choking tree; Etheria was healing now. Water had returned to the canyons, slowly at first, in trickles, until the rain had fallen - the sky slashed open as if in retribution to the memory of what the land had once been. Flowers were growing on battlefields. The land was no longer starving, and so the people weren’t either. 

Adora was keenly aware of the hand in hers. The feel of it familiar, fingers entwined and a thumb tapping over her knuckles, absentminded, to whatever it was her wife was humming along to. The term still gave Adora butterflies, which was foolish, she knew. But what did it matter, really, now that she could say it as often as she liked and have it be _true_. 

Adora followed the gentle tug of Catra’s arm as she wove a path through those wandering between stalls and display tables. The makeshift pavilions overhead kept away the fiercest sunbeams as they walked. Their pace languid, exploratory. 

Catra had allowed her hair to grow out. Only a little. It was… fluffier this way, better for running her hands through, Adora had learned. The dark waves mostly hidden now under something she’d picked up to keep the sun out of her eyes. 

Adora wasn’t sure how Bow would react to the sight of Catra wearing a ribboned summer hat. Ears poking through holes her claws had created. But Adora hoped he’d be restrained enough not to cause her wife to yank the thing off her head. 

Catra was getting better, still learning to allow her softer side out. She’d spent too much of her life building a fortress of walls, and teasing that out of her system was like hands working over painfully knotted muscles. 

She _did_ look adorable. But that was a sentiment better not shared out loud for now. 

Adora let herself smile.

It almost seemed unfair, when she thought about it, and it was such a small thing, found between woven fingers and easy glances, for it to be so capable of overflowing her heart. Because who in all Etheria had decided that she deserved to have all this? It was like someone had gone word by word through the diary of what she'd wished her life could be, and then manifested that vision into something she could reach - something she could touch. 

It had been magnificent when they finally had. Clumsy at first, until she found a taste of divinity amongst the brush of fingertips against skin, warm flesh under her tongue, and the noise of elevated keening close against her ear. 

Her mind floated amongst constellations for days.

It was not a thought that ignored her, dragging her from sleep with sharp claws amid darkness and crinkled bed sheets; that maybe Prime _had_ won, that maybe this was all a fantasy playing through their minds to keep them docile. Trapped. In a world that was too good to be true. 

Catra brought her back from that ledge every time. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes just by being there. Unaware, but grounding. 

Catra had stopped walking. Adora realised as she collided into her, noticing alert ears, a tail twitching and her attention fixed on the soft shadows behind a stall to their right. 

“Everything okay?” Adora inquired, a slight wrinkled over her forehead as she reclaimed her balance. 

“I… I think so,” Catra replied, her eyes scanning, narrowed, attention lost to something only accessible to inhuman senses. “I just… I feel like someone might be following us.” 

Adora followed her line of sight, finding nothing. Her hand shifting to her belt as a reminder of the dagger that lived there. A sword was good for She-Ra, but this was more practical for just being Adora, she’d found. “Is it Glimmer and Bow?”

“No,” Her tone of voice wasn’t alert, more curious than anything. Most here had been indifferent to Adora’s presence, and those that weren’t hadn’t been shy in saying hello or asking for autographs, but attempting to sneak up on She-Ra and her wife was pretty ballsy for _anyone_. “I would know if it was them, they’re not exactly quiet.” 

“Maybe it’s Huntara?” Adora offered.

Catra shook her head, distant. “Smaller. A lot smaller.”

Adora contemplated, before asking playfully. “Glimmer small, or Rosie small?” Scorpia and Perfuma’s daughter was barely at hip height yet. But she’s also pretty certain Catra owned the title of the shortest in their friend group. Adora felt no need to point that out. 

Catra’s shoulders lifted for a beat. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing, the heat is making me see things - probably a mirage or... something.” She didn’t sound convinced, but there were very few forms of trouble they couldn’t handle by now, and what little apprehension had grown in her chest fizzled away as Catra took her hand again. The contact a silent request to stay at her side. A little bit guarded, Adora recognised, but the crowd was quieter here, they could afford to take up the space of walking side by side. 

Adora wondered if Catra was missing Melog. The cat had placed one tentative paw onto the sand beneath the ships loading dock before refusing the heat altogether, crawling back to the cool and shaded metal. 

When it came to claws and punches there was no contest that Catra had nothing to worry about, but being around people just being _people_ \- weapons laid down on the ground, created a kind of vulnerability she was not as practised with. And her shield had stayed behind. 

“How sunburnt do you think Forsta’s going to be?” Adora asked, a distraction. “I can’t believe she asked to come all the way out here for her birthday to find it’s not nearly as ‘awesomely savage’ as it used to -”

Catra noticed before Adora did. The weight of the dagger shifting from her belt with such immeasurable skill that it would have gone unknown to Adora had she not witnessed Catra’s eyes snapping down toward it. 

And the little hand trying to take it.

Her wife’s grip caught around a scrawny arm, claws purposefully, carefully, retracted. The dagger fell, relinquished, to the dust by their feet. The tiny thief letting out a startled squeak before straining uselessly against Catra’s grip. She wasn’t even holding that tight. 

They both blinked in unison, dumfounded. 

“You really thought you’d get away with that?” Catra raised an eyebrow, amusement colouring her voice. It would have hardly mattered; Adora could summon the sword at will. You’d have better luck trying to steal the shadow of an oak tree. 

But it was just a _kid._

Adora faltered, noticing her wife troubling with the same hesitation. They were smaller than Rosie - the last time Adora had seen her at least, but only by a fraction. A feral little thing, dressed in tattered and dusty clothing, blue eyes peeking through the shadow of a hood that was so frayed it might as well have been poorly torn burlap. 

And they had sharp teeth, evidently, as their jaw widened to bite down around Catra’s wrist. Reactive, a panic response.

Catra yelped, releasing quick enough that the child stumbled backwards, hitting the ground with an ‘oof’. Watching as the impact dislodged the hood from the little scamp’s head to reveal messy blonde hair and feline-like ears. 

_Like Catra’s,_ Adora noted, bewildered - they’d never met anyone else like that on Etheria before. 

Adora stammered before asking. “What do you want with my sword?” 

The answer came after a delay, the child’s chest rising and falling, eyes like a cornered lamb’s as they braced on arms that were well beyond unfairly lean. _Jeez, when was the last time you had anything to eat?_

“I need it for my friend.” It sounded like an apology, a plea, spoken with a voice far younger than Adora had expected. The realisation tugging a cord in her heart. _What was a young kid doing out here seemingly surviving off pickpocketing for scraps and shiny things?_

“And why does your friend need it?” Catra asked, placating, her hand soothing over the pinkening marks on her wrist. Despite them, her voice a shade of gentle Adora hadn’t heard from her before. 

It wasn’t logical, she knew, but Adora was debating simply handing it over. The poor thing could play around with She-Ra’s sword for a while if they wanted, what harm could that possibly do? 

A lot, she rationalised. 

They hadn’t answered Catra’s question, so Adora offered an easier one, after retrieving the dagger off the ground. “What’s your name?” 

That was not, apparently, an easier question. 

“Hey, wait a second, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Catra began futilely, as they scurried back onto their feet. In a blink, pushing through and escaping into the packed alleyway of market stalls and startled people. 

_What on Etheria was that all about?_

Adora turned to Catra, finding her ears flickering as though in surprise at having discovered their replica on someone else's head, before she sent a bemused shrug. 

Adora returned the gesture. But the decision needed no agreement - they’d travelled to enough planets, worlds, and places to know every translation of an ask for help. 

And Catra had already begun to follow. 


	2. Chapter 2

There had been no plants in the Fright Zone, before. It required leaving everything behind for Adora to realise how blindsided she’d been to how the world was _supposed_ to be. How much colour there was. And how much love. 

She had heard the word family, whispered between her dorm-mates like a lost secret in the moments the adults weren’t listening. And she wanted to understand, to know what it meant - even the cobwebbed and broken versions the other children preferred not to talk about. But she couldn’t, not fully. 

It was unfair, she knew now, for a six-year-old to be attempting to build a home for herself, a patchwork replica that she eventually encouraged her best friend to step into. And Shadow Weaver… Shadow Weaver was _t_ _here,_ in some form. But the family Adora’s hands had tried to glue together had spikes around the edges, and she’d didn’t understand why. 

Her heart tripped, the first time she’d met Angella, though she’d done her best not to let it show. Because here was this wonderful, amazing, fiercely protective women, and this was what a mother was _meant_ to be? Warm, and loving, and light? 

She ripped Shadow Weaver from the image in her mind then, because it had been wrong, stained, with her there. But the tare still felt like an open wound for a while. 

It took time, years, for Adora to realise the emptiness that had settled in an alcove of her heart belonged to all of them. To Catra, to Lonnie, to Scorpia, Rogelio, Kyle and _everyone_. 

Because flowers can’t grow without sunlight. But thorns can. 

And it was a miracle they’d ever learned to let rosebuds bloom at all. 

* * *

Looking back, Adora was certain the line between intention and fate had started to fray. 

It shouldn't have been easy, the market pressing friction against Catra's senses as they pursued. Adora would’ve helped, but her tracking skills had developed little beyond attempting to eat the sand under their feet - so she let her wife do her thing. Listening, fond, as Catra grumbled something about the little scamp trying to lose them amongst the crowd. Circles and circles and circles. 

Every time Catra grew antsy, lost, they’d catch sight of a dusty-gold tail disappearing around an alleyway, or a glimpse between bodies of nervous hands tugging the hood back over their head, blue eyes darting behind to check their escape. Movements calculated, furtive, and far more practised that a little kid had any right to be. 

But someone, _something_ , clearly wanted them to keep up. Following little more than a feeling before nuggets of a trail fell back into their periphery, and Adora soon found the noise of the market a distant mumble to their backs, their path leading deep to the edge of town. 

Adora blanched at the sight of it. Rusted tin roofs barely held up by rickety, splintering beams, shattered windows sitting as gaping holes where glass panels had once been. _Living in the Horde was cozier than this,_ she thought grimly, _it looks like it’s been trampled by war._ And maybe it had been. But they were supposed to be fixing this.

It seemed abandoned, for the most part, grief clouding their faces as they walked through the street. A few grim eyes meeting theirs, sockets hollow and hungry. 

Adora made a note to return here with help, maybe She-Ra could rebuild some houses, rebuild some hope. 

Her feet stopped as she noticed a figure rising on the porch of a shack to their left, tall, looming - and lizard-kin, like Rogelio, Adora realised. But noticeably shorter, features more youthful. Scruffy clothing, dark red scales and a territorial scowl over his expression. Her eyes darting down to acknowledge their little thief sheltering behind his leg like a fawn running to the protection of its mother. 

“What do you want with Finn?” He asked, brave, defiant, but the crack in his voice broke through the facade. _How old are you_? Adora wondered, not for the first time that day. Sure, he was big, but Rogelio had been towering over the rest of them by the time he was only twelve. 

“It’s okay, we don’t mean any harm,” Adora said, mollifying, exhibiting her hands in the air. “We just want to talk.”

He stepped forward, a behaviour probably intended to be intimidating, or at least fortifying, but his face paled as his weight shifted. Trying to disguise the reaction by visibly sucking in a breath. 

The brace of cloth around his ankle no longer seemed like a fashion choice. 

“You’re hurt.” Catra frowned. 

“I’m fine.” It was a lie, clearly, spat ineffectively through gritted teeth.

Adora’s eyes found Finn’s, understanding now. _I_ _need it for my friend._ Life on the streets would be hard enough without having to limp around everywhere, and he’d unlikely have the luxury of being able to rest and heal. 

“Look, I can help,” Adora said, her voice soft. “I’m She-Ra,” Finn had clearly recognised her, but it didn’t hurt to say it again. “I can use my powers to heal you.” 

He wavered, glancing down to the dagger on Adora’s belt as she mentally asked it to glow a little brighter. She didn’t need permission, technically, but both of them were notably flighty and she’d need trust for this to get anywhere. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Catra asked. 

“Manx,” Some of the bravado fell from his shoulders then, and Finn took a step out from their hiding spot. As Adora noticed the extra pair of eyes peeking through a loose panel of the house, inquisitive, childlike. _There’s three of them._

“Do you mind if we step closer, Manx?” Maybe transforming into She-Ra would work better, people seemed to trust her more that way, especially kids. It was probably the glowing hair, she’d decided.

But she wouldn't need to. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, before he did it again, more sure this time. Untrusting, but desperate.

Finn disappeared into the house as they walked closer, joining the other child, a caramel-skinned human girl, as they both moved to observe through the barren window frame instead. Skittish as mice, but curious. 

Manx allowed himself to sit again, relieving the effort of standing for so long on a damaged limb, but the gesture trusting too. Adora sat beside him, taking a breath before focusing She-Ra’s energy into her palms. 

His eyes went wide as he watched her hands manifest a golden candescent light, moving to cup the air around the makeshift bandage when he nodded his approval, cautious. 

Bones, she’d learned, very much did _not_ like to be out of place - they were easier, in a way, and would weld back to where they were supposed to be with little complaint. 

Muscles were tricker, as though she were having to untangle every thread of stitchwork one by one after realising she’d done the whole pattern wrong. 

But she’d been practising. The fibres re-knitted under her touch, her palms warm, humming. The ankle not broken; just badly twisted. 

Until it wasn’t.

Manx blinked, testing for discomfort as he rolled the foot in its socket before he let out an amazed laugh - the most youthful sound he’d made so far. “You did it!” 

“Better?” Adora raised an eyebrow, grinning. 

“Yeah,” He was actually smiling now, boyish and happy, the defensiveness he’d shown earlier completely gone. The magic tended to make people more… pliable, for a while. But this seemed genuine, his defences relaxed, drawbridge lowered.

Adora felt Catra’s attention shift at her side, her wife’s tail ticking like the hand of a clock as Finn returned underneath the door frame, the little girl following tentatively behind. 

“Manxie can walk now?” Finn asked. 

“Yep,” Adora promised. “All better.”

Finn approached, bolder now, but their ears tilted back in sheepish apology. “I’m sorry I tried to steal your knife.”

“It’s okay,” Adora smiled, trying not to let the expression break over how young they’d sounded. _You’re just a bunch of babies, what are you doing out here all alone?_

“You only needed to ask, you know,” Catra said, her voice forgiving - she knew better than anyone that it’s hard to stop fighting when it’s all you’ve been raised for. 

Finn’s ears fell even further, bashful as he turned to Catra. “I’m sorry that I bit you,”

Catra replied after a slow heartbeat, not expecting the apology. “It’s alright, I’ve survived worse. And I’m… I’m sorry for grabbing at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Finn’s ears relaxed as Adora pushed down the proud smile wanting to break over her face, _wow, look at that, Catra being expertly emotionally mature,_ though the fuel to prevent it wasn’t hard to find. 

She tried to make the question unintrusive. “Do you guys… do you have anyone looking after you?” 

The cold as winter grief that washed over Manx’s face was answer enough. Adora’s heart fell, though it was no surprise - the Horde had left a shadow of orphans in its wake like a vulture leaves a trail of bones. 

“Kiya,” Finn broke through the silence, answering, their cheerfulness misplaced.

“Who’s Kiya?” Catra inquired, hopeful. 

“She used to look after us,” Manx explained, subdued. “She found each of us when we lost our families and took us in,” He’d curled in on himself, arms hugging around his knees like he was clinging onto a liferaft, before he spoke again. Quiet. “She’s gone now.” 

There was a weight like rocks in Adora’s heart, pulling it down, sinking. The other two were probably too young, they wouldn’t understand, not fully. And now Manx had been left to look after them. 

The girl stepped out of the shadow of the doorway then, a hand taller than Finn, eyes enraptured by the ribbons attached to Catra’s hat. 

“You want to try it on?” She offered, kneeling, the little girl nodding wordlessly before Catra placed it carefully over her head. It didn’t fit quite right, slipping down over one eye. But she was beaming anyway. 

Adora heard Finn let out a small gasp, moving toward Catra as if they’d just discovered something miraculous. “You’re like me,” They said, muted, surprised, as their little hands reached toward her ears and the ruffles of satin-like fur surrounding them. Investigating with his touch, but conscientious, and aware they’d be sensitive. 

“Yeah, kiddo, I’d noticed.” Catra replied, not pulling away despite the fact she’d rarely let anyone beside Adora so close before. 

Finn tilted their head to the side, adorably, something puzzling through their mind, and Adora wondered if a child could even contemplate the weight of what that discovery might mean. Possibly the only two magicats on Etheria, both orphans, and they’d just found each other. 

Adora turned back to Manx, happy that the two younger ones were distracted, before asking, her tone kind. “How long have you been on your own?” 

“A few months, I think,” he shrugged. “Kiya was the one who taught us how to live out here, how to…”

 _Steal._ He didn’t say the world himself, chagrin tainting the sadness in his eyes. _He wasn’t proud of it, bless him, but they’d had no choice._

Adora glanced to her wife who was still patiently tolerating Finn’s investigation of her ears, while mirroring exactly the same thought process that was running through Adora’s head. _They shouldn’t be out here._

“You know...” Adora began. “We have some friends like your Kiya. They take in kids in similar situations to you guys, give them somewhere warm to live, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat. You wouldn’t have to go hungry there, you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.” Adora paused for a beat, careful for his reaction and aware how this might sound if she’d not had the benefit of She-Ra on her side. “We wouldn’t want to steal you away from your life here, but if it’s something you wanted, we could take you there. You could have a home.” 

He glanced over his shoulder to the two little ones now amusing themselves with taking turns trying on the summer hate, it was endearingly large on them both. “I think they would like that,” he said. 

Adora nudged him with her shoulder, friendly. “You’re welcome too,”

“I’m not sure I really count as a kid anymore,” he admitted, leaving Adora hoping the splinter stinging in her chest would be easy to pull out later. 

“How old are you?” 

“I don’t know, honestly,” the melancholy behind his eyes darkened. “But I can look after myself well enough, there’s probably kids out there that need a home more than I do -”

“Nope,” Adora interrupted. “Uh-uh, you are not allowed to convince yourself you don’t deserve this.” And realising that might not be the right button to push, she took a breath, softening. “Those two are gonna need you watching over them, you’re their big brother, they won’t want to go if you don’t.” 

That seemed to work, some of the light returning behind his eyes. “Okay,” He said, a bit shaky. “Okay.” 

Adora beamed, looking to Catra who winked subtly in approval of her negotiation skills. 

“Hey Finn, Bella, how do you feel about taking a trip?” Manx asked, lighter now. 

“Are we gonna have to walk the whole way?” Finn asked, nearly whining, as they pushed the straw rim of the hat above their eyes so they could see. _Why is that so cute?_

“Only as far as our spaceship,” Catra promised. “We can fly the rest of it.” 

Excitement turned Finn’s eyes endlessly wide, shimmering like the galaxies she’d once explored, before they squeaked. “You have a _spaceship?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing with this lmao


	3. Chapter 3

Catra wasn’t sure at what point she’d stopped seeing her hands as weapons. A fist to collide against flesh and bone, claws like knives to rake canyons into skin. It was the one thing Shadow Weaver had ever praised her for - a fraying thread she’d clung onto. Destruction; as an inherent part of herself. _You're made this way,_ the whispers told her, _violence is in your blood_. 

The voice was still there, but the darkness it once sparked in her chest couldn’t touch her now. Because it was a lie, she’d learned. Her hands could do more than just break; they could create, could build and craft and draw. 

And hold. 

The contact had caused her to recoil, at first, a lesson buried as deep as instinct. Until, along the same path that she learned her own, she re-learned Adora’s. How it felt to hold them without fear like they had when they were kids, before the excuse and the innocence of childhood had grown old with them. 

It was a fact she was still letting herself learn, that the feel was unique to a person, like how words make up voices, or features make up smiles. How they could belong to someone. Incontestably theirs. Familiar. 

She knew Adora’s hands, but Catra had almost been an adult the first time she'd held onto them, knowing and understanding what the gesture could mean in its entirety. The simplicity of it, honest and _home._ A thousand doves with beating wings taking flight in her chest all at once. 

So hands are a bit of a _thing_ for Catra. She’s aware, she’s working on it. 

* * *

Eyes could be violent, Catra knew. But she’d never seen them like this, a few scattered faces turning cold and apathetic as they caught sight of the trio walking beside them. Scowling.

Sure, pickpocketing wasn’t exactly the most neighbourly of occupations, but jeez, they were just _kids._ Noticeably uneasy being so out in the open, taking each step with their whole lives bundled in tattered rucksacks over their shoulders, the teddy in Finn’s arms missing a pitiful number of limbs. 

Maybe these were the sort of people, she wondered, bitter, who would stumble across a duckling shivering in the middle of a frozen-over pond and simply… do nothing. 

Catra scoweled right back. 

But what were you supposed to do with a duckling once you’d found it? Keep it warm? Fed? Maybe she should drop the metaphor, it seemed dumb now, like when Bow compared her scribbled sketches to the murals in Brightmoon. Because this was vastly more complicated. You can’t just throw breadcrumbs at a bunch of kids and hope for the best.

 _Oh god, they're gonna need to eat_. But they could deal with that later, she pushed it aside, a bullet point further down the list. _Walking is easy, for now, just walk._

But Glimmer and Frosta were supposed to be back in the Kingdom of Snows tomorrow, political nonsense to deal with, which meant, and it hit her like she’d been slapped - the kids would be with them for at least a whole day before they reached the reformed Fright Zone. _A whole day._ It really shouldn’t have been so terrifying. 

Perfuma had given them a house plant once, it died within weeks - apparently, they’d overwatered it. Later, they’d made excuses, but babysitting Rosie had been adamantly avoided. 

And now they had _three_ to look after. 

But the trio were scrappy, right? Maybe they'd be easier, less fragile. 

She breathed, imperceptibly, as Adora took her hand, Catra couldn’t tell if her wife had noticed, but the tension beginning to seep from her chest either way. The exit of the maze appearing in her mind. But wondering, as she noticed Finn watching them now, head tilted, eyes curious and fixed on where their hands were joined - what it would be like to not have that lifeline. Or to search for it and find nothing, emptiness, where something innate and buried told you comfort should have been. 

They’d been parentless too. But in her memories, she’d never not had Adora. 

Until she’d pushed her away - chasing independence when really all she found was detachment. And it was cold, lonely. But from the outside, they’d looked the same. She knew the truth now, that one was built on scars, while the other on strength - on friends, on family, on a foundation of _home._

She frowned then, because she’s pretty sure the last arm of Finn’s teddy is close to falling off at the seams. 

* * *

Finn wasn’t the only one with eyes as wide as the oceans as the ship came into view, the metalwork gleaming under rays of sunlight. It was a fair point, for all their flaws, that the first ones at least knew how to make things that looked cool. 

Bella’s jaw fell open as Darla hummed, waking up, noiselessly releasing the ramp of the loading bay to meet the sand below. 

Melog was waiting. Freezing Finn in their tracks a breath before bounding forward like an excitable puppy. The feline advancing on paws the size of a lion’s, expression alert, inquisitive, as the tip of their tail notched through the air. 

_Cubs?!_ The sound of their tone amazed, delighted, stupidly sentimental - and regrettably, only audible to Catra. _Is it still technically ‘audible’,_ she wondered, _if it’s telepathic? Whatever._ Melog was trotting now.

Finn immediately dashed behind her, Manx taking a stumbled step backwards as he braced an arm protectively in front of Bella, eyes unfathomably wide. Melog got that reaction sometimes. It was justified, she thought, that the sight of a creature nearly as tall as you are stalking toward you had the potential to be a tad terrifying. But at least they had the sense to stop. 

“Hey,” Adora shushed, “It’s okay, Melog’s a friend.' 

Catra wasn’t sure how to feel about the child shying behind her legs. “It’s alright,” She tried, feeling a little bit triumphant as Finn glanced up at her, before taking a step out from their hiding place, the teddy clutched to their chest. “They’re not gonna hurt you,” Catra promised, her voice tainted with humour now, but kind. 

She watched as Melog’s nose twitched, a glimmer of azure misting their form before shrinking to the size of a house cat, their features more youthful now, almost… babyish? Catra thought. 

_Huh, I didn’t know you could do that._

_I can do a lot!_ Melog told her, proud, letting out a friendly trill like the scales of a pianist played from deep within their chest. Letting themselves fall as limp and pliable as a ragdoll as Finn approached, scooping kitten-Melog into their arms. The child releasing a toothy smile as Melog nuzzled under their chin.

 _That’s gonna be helpful_ , Catra thought, a smile cracking through at the sight.

* * *

They’d need a room, she realised. Late afternoon was brining a cooler air with it, the nights were shorter here, but they’d still need to sleep. At least she’d never had to put the plant to bed. But then, maybe she should have, maybe it wouldn’t have shrivelled up.

The ship’s spare room was a mess as she stepped inside, leaving Adora and the kids on the command deck to update Scorpia and Perfuma on the situation. 

Melog pushed past her leg, now back to their normal size, and far heavier than they realised. _Do you like it?_

An eyebrow hiked. “What on Etheria did you do?” 

The bed had disappeared under a messy mountain range of blankets, linen and pillows, seemingly every single piece of bedding available for Melog to pull out of storage. More, actually. 

_I made it._

“Why?”

_For the cubs._

Catra folded her arms. “They’re not cubs, Melog. They’re kids.”

The feline hummed, possibly contemplating the difference, it seemed arbitrary, really. Language was weird. And she was pretty sure whatever magic translator worked between them slipped up sometimes. But Melog’s next question was unmistakable.

_Did you make them?_

_Did we -_ “Excuse me?” 

Melog’s head tilted, foolishly cute, and deceptively oblivious. _Did you make them?_

Catra faltered, frown lines causing ripples in her forehead. “No? No, we didn’t _make_ them. We found them, we’re taking them to the... orphanage.” Ugh, she hated that word. Pausing. “Melog, you do know where babies come from, right?” 

Melog stared at her, calm, blinking. _Our children are born from earth and magic, from wells of creation, and by the melody of a song our tribe would gather to sing._ A beat. _Is it not the same for you?_

“Nope,” Catra averted her eyes, the pink in her cheeks barely noticeable. “That’s not at all how it works for us.”

 _Oh,_ Melog sighed, thoughtful, before they asked. _Can we keep them anyway?_

Catra shook her head, snorting despite herself. “We’re not ready for that,” But it was weird - because it tasted different, less like the truth now. More like a hesitation. 

_Jeez, when had that happened?_

Melog turned to her, eyes doleful. _Just one?_

“No, Melog,” She replied, beginning to set the room back to a semblance of order. 

_Someones a broody chicken,_ she thought, a little worried by the implications - and the timing of when this attempt at den making must have taken place. _But Melog’s autonomous,_ she reminded herself, _it doesn't always have to_ mean _something._

_I can hear you._

“Shut up.” 

* * *

Manx was entertaining the younger two playing a game with the buttons and dials over the dormant console when Catra returned. Though pretending, she noted, to not be enraptured by it himself. 

The communication screen in front of Adora still painted in pixels with the faces of their friends as the conversation came to a close. 

“Hey, wildcat!” Scorpia greeted as she came into view. “I hear you guys found some little scamps out there. But we have plenty of room here still, I’m sure they’ll love it, and the clones have been great. Fantastic really, who knew they’d make such great carers? We’re getting a room ready, just for the three of them, so they can stay together and get used to things.” She finally took a breath. “Anyway, we should probably leave you to it, things to do here, but good luck!” 

“Goodbye!” Perfuma waved, her smile consoling. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” The sound of Rosie sending an adorable “bye-bye” followed, suggesting she’d been out of sight in the room with them. 

It was guilt that fluttered through her veins then, Catra recognised, as the image blinked to nothingness. Was it wrong to be taking the kids away, even just a little bit? When this had been home to them, when this was familiarity - even if it was made of broken windows and splintering floorboards. Sure, they were offering security, but they’d be removing them from the life they’d known. 

But there was a difference between living and surviving. A difference between somewhere you existed and somewhere that was home. And it was black and white - but there was grey there too, a hue that settled between growth and comfort. Because sunlight could burn, but a sapling could never become a tree without it. And... what the _fuck_ was she talking about? 

Perhaps it was better to leave the parental philosophy to the people who actually knew what they were doing. It wasn’t like she’d need to worry about it after tomorrow. 

Her eyes scanned the room absently as Adora beeped a message through to Bow, her gaze falling on what she thought might have resembled a rabbit at some point in its life, limp, laying over the arm of the captain's chair. 

The teddy was _old,_ old. Boneless from clumps of lost stuffing, and as threadbare as a rock, only one arm left, but barely. 

She was sure there was a sewing kit around here somewhere. 

Finn looked ready to bite again when she picked it up, which might have been justified, she wouldn’t know. But they didn’t pounce. Sat on the floor, showcasing that she meant no harm as her hands guided and wove the thread of a needle until it no longer looked like a sudden breeze would make the limb float away like a leaf from a tree. 

She held it out toward Finn, keenly aware they’d been staring the whole time. Hoping she hadn’t made a giant mistake in defiling something sacred as they padded forward on bare feet, warily. Taking it from her hands as reverently as if it were a living thing. Before they spoke, almost soundless, “thank you.”

Shock wasn’t what she’d expected, a complete disbelieve that anyone was capable, or even willing to help. 

“That’s alright, no big deal.” Because it wasn’t, and it shouldn’t have been. And she’d forgotten how young they sound every goddamn time.

Finn seemed to be searching for something else to say, something else to give, eyes glancing back to her ears for a moment as they stood, bashful, in front of her. Tensing at the thought that maybe they were about to hug her. But they didn’t, shuffling back to their friends instead. _Or... siblings? Maybe?_

She turned, finding Adora watching, translating in her head the look her wife was sending as “ _s_ _eems like you’ve made a friend._ ”

And yeah, it kinda felt like she had. 

* * *

It began to rain by the time the others arrived, the grey patterns against the windows feeling like a relief. Frosta, Glimmer and Bow stepping into the command deck to find the trio in the middle of an adventure in the captain’s chair. Alone - aside from Darla who was musing with sound effects, but remaining stationary. 

“Uh,” Glimmer stuttered, watching the kids bolt upright in alarm, turning toward them. “Hi.” 

“So _that’s_ what Adora’s message meant...” Bow’s puzzlement turning into a friendly smile. In retrospect, ‘we found some kids!!’ should have been straight forward enough, but he’d been too excited by the concept of bringing home a bunch of baby goats and the lamb emoji she’d sent hadn’t helped (Adora was still getting used to this whole texting thing). “Hi.”

“Honestly,” Frosta groaned, pushing her sunglasses onto her head. “I ask for a ride all the way out here so I can finally get into a bar fight without having anyone recognising me and those two end up adopting a bunch of urchins? Where’d they even find them?” 

“In the north end of town, attempting to steal my sword,” Adora explained simply, arriving with armfuls of snacks she’d dug out from the ship’s pantry. “Be nice, Frosta.” 

Catra followed carrying a picnic blanket, there was no dining table, but that didn’t mean they had to sit on the floor. 

“Alright, you guys, dig in,” Adora declared, once it was set up. Which was probably not the most sensible suggestion considering the sugar high’s they’d both been on for weeks after leaving the horde. 

But nobody moved. And it wasn’t even that much food, but to the malnourished trio, it probably looked like an undeserved treasure trove. 

_Jeez, who’d stuck a needle in Catra’s heart? Ouch._

Melog appeared to read her, moving to sprawl over the picnic blanket with stretching and languid limbs, deliberate, like some sort of therapy animal. 

Finn crept forward, slow, sitting against Melog like a cushion, before the other two joined. And Adora realised that the audience most likely wasn’t helping, nudging the adults through to the hallway before explaining everything that had happened and why the three orphans would be travelling back with them. 

“You weren’t joking about the sword?” Frosta’s eyes went wide, impressed. “That kid’s going places, how did you _not_ feel it?” 

“It’s the cat genes, they’re sneaky,” Catra shrugged. 

“Cat genes?” Glimmer frowned, confused.

“Yeah,” Adora nodded, “Didn’t you notice? Finn’s like Catra.” 

Honestly, she’d been paying more attention to the near six-foot reptilian who’d turned guarded and defensive as soon as they’d walked in. 

Glimmer tried to be inconspicuous as she moved to peek her head around the doorway, Bow copying, the kids now thankfully, eating, and - _oh my god._

“They’re like you!” Bow ascertained, hushed, as he returned. 

“Yeah,” Catra confirmed dryly. “We realised that.” 

“And we’d all assumed you were one of a kind,” Glimmer joked as she joined them again.

“I’m just putting this out there,” Frosta began, her arms folding. “But has anyone - I don’t know - considering that the two of your might somehow be related? Distant cousins or something? It’s a hell of a coincidence to have finally found another-” She gestured to Catra, who frowned. “...cat person, and there not be any significance to that.” 

Catra had contemplated the idea, little more than a radar blip in her mind. But two war orphans would have as much luck tracking down their family tree as a pebble had learning how to fly. Throwing one off the side of a cliff didn’t count - and she had tried. 

Catra shrugged. “It’s a possibility.” 

_Did she even want to know, would Finn? When she was so settled in her life now and searching would only reopen a whole journal of questions she thought she’d been happy to close._

“Alright,” Bow clapped his hands together. “Let’s leave the life-altering questions for later, yeah? Cake to eat, a kingdom to return to,” He paused, eyes going wide, excitement causing his voice to ascend octaves. “Oh, do you think they’ve ever had birthday cake before?” 

* * *

Catra’s worry about the sugar wasn’t misguided. And she’d never considered the time difference between the Kingdom of Snows and the Crimson Waste would be so much of an immovable issue. 

“Time for bed,” Adora attempted, with a confidence that started stern but soon turned frail.

“No, it’s not,” Manx countered, not stubborn, just puzzled. “It’s not dark outside.” 

And there really hadn’t been any arguing that. Because how exactly does one explain planetary rotation in relation to the sun to a bunch of children? They’d gotten them so far as the bedroom, but their eyes were still very much wide, _wide,_ open. 

_Ah_ , Melog observed sympathetically, _they have the zoomies._

“Yeah,” Catra sighed. “Any suggestions?”

_Nighttime will make them sleepy._

“Yeah, but its midday here, they can’t stay up for hours and hours.” 

Melog made a sound like a chuckle, low and rumbling. _We are on a spaceship, are we not?_

Oh _. Oh._

* * *

It was no trial to shepherd them back into the command deck, the view unmissable and wide through the panels of glass. As Darla rose into the sky. 

“Where we going?” Finn asked, inquisitive, the rabbit held securely under one arm.

"A little diversion, you'll like it, I promise," Catra told them, unexpectedly pleased that Finn appeared to believe her. 

"Where _are_ we going?" Adora repeated, quieter, as the others gathered curiously. 

“Melog had an idea I want to try,” Catra explained, at the exact moment the horizon faded to pure, stark black. 

Frosta ducked out of the room with a loud, existential “Nope!” just as the galaxy came into view. 

And now the stars in Finn’s eyes weren’t a lie. The moondust scattering across the faces of the other two as they watched, awestruck.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Catra said, trying to not sound smug. 

Space was big, endless. Like peeking over the vastness of a chasm and experiencing your head rushing with vertigo. But there was a peace there too, sat between the insignificance of it all. So long as you had an anchor. 

And she hadn’t been looking, hadn’t realised how close Finn had stepped beside her, hadn’t been _expecting_ \- as they reached out for the hand relaxed at Catra’s side. 

Finn’s had barely even touched her before she ripped her arm away, holding her wrist guardedly against her chest as she glanced down to the child at her side. Registering _,_ and in the millisecond after it happened, feeling as though she'd never regretted anything so much in her life. 

Because, _fuck_ , she’d f _linched._ Watching, a pain growing thorns in her chest, as Finn’s ears lowered at the same pace their hand did - as if they felt the need to be the one apologising. 

_Fuck._

An _'I’m sorry,’_ caught in her throat, a lump she thought she might choke on as Finn moved across the room toward where Manx and Bella were standing.

The moment had passed intangible to everyone else, Catra noticed, beginning and ending in the same beat it took her heart to break. 

She hadn’t meant to do that, it hadn’t been fair. She _hadn’t meant_ to do that. _Why not go and find a duckling to kick, you idiot._

Melog glanced toward her, who had not seen, but had clearly felt - eyes soft with concern. _It is not your fault, Catra._

It was jarring to hear her own name from them, and it was that more than anything that snapped her out of it, feeling like her hand was burning from regret. _This is why we can’t keep one, Melog._ Something inside her wobbling at the realisation she’d been considering it, even just a little. 

They moved, sitting by her feet, repeating. _It is not your fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me such a long time, I had horrendous writer's block and didn't know what I was doing with this. Excuse the angst, it's gonna get better. 
> 
> Tumblr, if anyone wants to talk: adertilys-quill


	4. Chapter 4

_Not my fault._

_But that's the problem, isn't it?_

_Because it is._

All the healing Etheria had gone through after the war had taken place while they’d been away saving other solar systems, other planets. Had taken place _without_ them.

And seeing a scar over the flesh of a friend is far less haunting than staring at a gaping wound. But skin does not forget, doesn't lie, and it _had_ been there - once. And it was unavoidable, the truth that she’d she played such a definitive part in putting it there.

How many steps had those armies marched under her orders, how many villages torn to the ground and left in embers that her own eyes never witnessed? And even back then, her head had grown heavy, but she knew now it was never a crown she'd been wearing. 

_Had they lost their families because of me?_

The question was loud in Catra's mind, and _holy shit_ \- there must have been a five-hundred-foot dam suppressing that trail of thought because when it crashed she felt like she was drowning. The thumping in her heart felt like it was about to punch through her ribcage. 

_Shit._

_Breathe._

She was barely aware Melog shifted, standing on top of her toes as they gazed up at her with the weight of their chin against her stomach. Purring, she could feel it. 

She allowed the sensation to take over her whole perceivable universe, letting her hands fall into the depths of fur under their cheeks. 

_Breathe._

The rhythm of vibrations against the palm of her hand lessened the vertigo, lessened the pressure that had rolled over her chest like a tank. Walking along the edge of a chasm, and her foot had slipped - dirt had scattered. But she hadn't fallen. 

_Better. Breathe._

Catra was partially conscious of Bow as he moved to her side, the motion casual, not making a scene. 

"Come on," He said, his voice unfairly soft. "Let's go somewhere quiet."

She didn't argue. Her mind letting her return to the room and discovering Adora was sat beside the kids now, keeping their attention with a lesson about the stars, their names, their patterns; about how they danced with each other. But glancing, occasionally. Worried; not wanting to redirect attention where it wouldn't help. 

Catra nodded to Bow, following him from the room with a hand in Melog's mane as they walked at heel beside her unsteady footsteps. 

* * *

The hands on the clock had moved. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, panic attacks had a habit of making time a bit evanescent in her head for a while. 

Bow kept talking, lost in nothing particular as he set cross-legged beside her, distracting, recounting what the three of them had done that day after she and Adora splintered away. At least it sounded like Frosta’d had a decent birthday. 

It wasn’t quite colourless, but… mundane. It was helping. 

She’d laid down in her room, the floor, not the bed - needing something solid and cold beneath her back. Melog’s weight sprawled purposefully across her abdomen, the pressure of it keeping her grounded. 

But she thought these had stopped. 

It had been years at least, she couldn’t remember really, because she’d never expected the last to be the last, had made no note of it after it passed by unexceptionally, painfully. 

_But oh look_ , she thought dryly, _if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions._

Melog moved away readily as she sat upright, weakly, the muscles in her limbs feeling like she’d spent the whole day on drill work. 

“Do you… uh,” Bow diverged from whatever harmless topic he’d been on, his voice still spectacularly soothing. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“It’s stupid,”

“Catra,” He said, his tone not disguising the fact they both knew this wouldn’t have happened at all if it had been. 

Deflecting around him had never been easy. “It’s my fault.” She said. 

“What is?” The question sincere, his forehead crinkling in puzzlement as Catra rolled her eyes, annoyed to find they were damp now. 

“That they’re orphans,” She almost choked on it, the word like bile in her mouth. “That they were out there on their own, that they have no families and will probably never know what their parent’s faces looked like,” She remembered so little of her own, a scent, a smile, and something eternally severed. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “That this me-trying-to-be-a-hero thing is a lie and that it wouldn’t even be necessary If I weren’t such an awful person-”

“Stop.” There was no ignoring the command in his tone. “You remember what Perfuma taught you? About what to do when you feel like this?”

And _ugh_ , this actually _was_ stupid, but yeah, she remembered. When the damage she’d done was all she could see, to repaint the picture, find the stars in the darkness... or whatever. 

She counted in her head because there weren’t enough fingers on her hands. A well-rehearsed list. But it never felt like the truth the first time round, letting it replay in her mind until she noticed Melog turn a shade of mellow blue from the endlessly dark ocean they’d been before. 

“Catra...” Bow began, gentle. “You really think an awful person would feel enough remorse to be capable of spiralling into a panic attack?” 

Reluctantly. “No,” She did feel better though, maybe in need of more cake. But this had never been something that would wash away with a few hours of meditation and mindful breathing exercises.

Feet were moving down the hallway then, her ears caught the sound before the silhouettes passed the open doorway. Bella yawning and drowsy as Manx carried her on his shoulders, Finn rubbing their eyes, the teddy dangling from their hand.

 _Sleepy babies._ Melog said, and it wasn’t the most competent description, but Catra found herself agreeing. 

And then one of the sleepy babies was looking straight at her, Finn’s attention turning as they noticed her sat on the floor. Before approaching, alarmingly. 

“I’m sorry I made you jump,” They told her, close now.

Catra softened, perhaps she’d been unfair in thinking they’d not understand why she’d done that. It hadn’t been a rejection - it hadn’t been intentional at all. _And not everyone has the emotional range of a goose, you… goose?_ She wanted to reply, but her mind couldn’t form a way of saying ‘I’m sorry I jumped,’ without it sounding lame. 

She blinked as Finn held out the teddy toward her, offering. Her body unfurling like a flower under the warmth of the sun, her hand accepting the gift in reflex. Dumbfounded. 

“Bunny helps me when I'm feeling sad,” They explained, as something in her chest melted like the point where a glacier forms a stream. “Maybe he'll help you too?”

“Thanks…” _Thank you?_ Jeez. “You don’t have to do that, it’s okay-”

The thought became smothered as Finn moved closer, and she wasn’t really sure why she didn’t tense this time since there was no longer any doubt it was about to happen. 

Her mind went as blank as an empty canvas as Finn’s small arms hugged around her, their head snug under her jawline. _How can you be so little?_ She thought, surprised she even could. And more surprised to discover her own arms had positioned to cradle around Finn too. Holding. Warm and solid and _little._

“Thank you,” she wasn’t sure what for. 

Catra found Adora watching them from the doorway as Finn stepped back, something unbearably fond behind her wife’s eyes where concern had lived not moments before. 

She cleared her throat, hoping it would stop it cracking as she spoke again. “Go on then, enough stalling, you need to get to bed.” 

Finn scurried back over to the others, reaching to tug Adora down the hallway by her hand, and by the look on her face, Catra was pretty sure her wife had just short-circuited from the contact. 

Catra tried not to smile. 

And this was precarious, she knew, because when they’d set off, this was the farthest form of trouble that had existed on her radar - but now it wouldn’t stop beeping at her. 

Melog started purring, such a ridiculously dopey sound, as their head rolled toward her. 

_Oh, shut up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's only little, smaller chapters tend to keep me more consistent about posting. Thank you everyone who's been commenting, you are all wonderful human beings ❤️


	5. Chapter 5

_Mara._ That one was Adora’s favourite, she explained in answer to Finn’s question. A constellation named after a friend; an apology written into the stars themselves, twinkling as they watched, like something shiny making itself known from the floor of the ocean. 

Her pointed finger guided around the silhouette of the dragon as she gestured across the sky, aware she was talking fast, babbling probably. And maybe she was a little biased, but she _loved_ this, and it was nice to have someone wanting to listen and it not be pretend. 

Her hand fell back to her side, her chest light as she turned over her shoulder to send a smile to -

Adora’s face fell. 

_Oh, Catra._

It felt like all the warmth had been sapped from the room as she recognised what was happening, and it was infinitesimal, but she knew Catra. She'd noticed. The absent void behind Catra’s eyes emptier than the billions of miles of space outside. 

_Where have you gone?_

She was a solitary, strangled heartbeat away from rushing toward her wife before Melog was there. Then Bow too. And whatever part of Catra that had grown distant, returned back to them. 

_She’s okay, they’ve got her._ Adora felt her shoulders deflate as her wife was guided from the command deck. The flicker of Finn’s ear the only acknowledgement that any of the three had noticed the shift in the room. 

What had she missed? Catra seemed fine moments before; but then these things rarely offered the chivalry of warning, she knew. 

* * *

Bella was the first to start yawning, eyes fighting a futile battle before the three unanimously agreed that, okay, bedtime could be now. 

Adora stepped toward the ship’s control panel. 

“Would you like to input a new destination?” Darla offered, her voice, like always, calm as the fall of rain as dusk settles in.

“Yes please,” Adora replied, resetting the coordinates. “Take us home,” 

* * *

Glimmer offered, valiantly, to help Adora put the kids to bed, Manx carrying a slowly-blinking Bella in his arms as they passed through the hallway, Finn walking beside.

And everything seemed to be going to plan, until Finn veered off course, straight toward her and Catra's bedroom. Which was possibly _not_ a good idea, considering. But the door had been left open, and her wife seemed better, or at least more present, as she came into view. She sent her a concerned smile that Catra returned, more clarity behind her expression now. 

And then Finn stepped forward. 

They were all a little stunned for a few, slow heartbeats. Adora watching the interaction with something that felt like pride glowing in her chest like a lantern. But different, a few steps to the left of where the emotion normally sat in her heart, deeper, warmer. More ardent. It was… new, but it was nice, she decided.

It increased tenfold as Finn took her hand, Adora had to suppress the squeak that began climbing up the back of her throat. _Catra had just been hugged for Grayskull's sake, how had she been so calm about it?_

Glimmer raised an amused eyebrow at her, which was, perhaps, entirely valid, but this was… _jeez, okay, this was new, alright? And a little bit overwhelming._

* * *

Adora had stepped inside their house long enough to recognise there had been only one bed between them - three were set up here, regardless, they all climbed into the same one. She wasn’t going to dissuade. Whatever they were comfortable with worked best. As a child, she would’ve spent every night curled up next to Catra if the Horde had let them, sleeping alone when you’re not used to it could be astonishingly lonely, she’d learned.

“Is Catra gonna be okay?” Finn asked, a moment before the two women were about to depart from the room. Adora shared a glance with Glimmer, before she returned to the bed, carefully kneeling beside where Finn had tucked themselves in.

They’d said her wife’s name so easily, so simply, unaware that it belonged to someone who’d been through so much, who’d _done_ so much, and who’s definition of okay was, irreversibly, never truly going to be _okay_. But it became a new normal, overtime - for both of them. 

The bedtime stories and playground games that had spread across Etheria knew She-Ra’s name like that of a neighbourhood deity. Adora’s was less know; kept to closer circles, but that was fine. And there was a blessing in the fact it was not Catra that had been immortalised when the war ended. That crown of infamy belonged to Horde Prime. And the justified indictment from a planet full of people had died along with him. For the most part. It seemed that Catra, still, was burning the last of those candles. 

I wasn’t surprising, really, now that Adora had time to reflect - spending the day with three war orphans in tow, Catra had undoubtedly been throwing blame around where it didn’t deserve to be. 

Adora sighed, slow, before she spoke. “Catra will be alright, she’s tougher than she looks,” Which was a statement, considering most first impressions of her wife swayed toward ‘fiesty’ and ‘thick-skinned.’ But even the wall of a fortress will crumble if you know which beams and bricks to dismantle. “You don’t need to worry about her, okay?” She promised. “Let Mr Bunny do that.” 

Finn nodded, happier, snuggling further down under the covers, the little girl already asleep at his side, as Manx send Adora an appreciative nod.

 _It would be weird to kiss them goodnight, right?_ Yes, she decided, settling on saying it out loud instead.

“Night-night,” Finn was the only one to give a reply, muffled and sleepy. As Adora pushed back onto her feet, pausing, a little bit smitten with the way it’d sounded, before slipping noiselessly from the room with Glimmer. 

Adora let out a relieved breath as the metal door slid shut behind them. Turning to find her friend - 

_Staring_ at her. Weirdly. Something suspiciously sappy - but teasing, behind Glimmers’s eyes. 

“What?” Adora frowned.

“Nothing,” Glimmer shook her head, deflecting, the smirk on her face giving her away. “It’s just… you know, we were all so convinced you two didn’t even _like_ kids. And here you are, being all...” Her hands gestured playfully toward where Adora was standing.

She felt her frown create a wrinkle in her forehead. Preparing a question that became interrupted as Frosta appeared around the corner, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other, which… _where had she even found them?_

“Are we back in our own atmosphere now?” She grumbled noncommittally.

“Yep,” Glimmer replied as Adora still seemed to be having trouble forming words. She had acknowledged the familiar drop in her stomach as the ship descended, the weight of gravity beginning to play with her organs. That bit was never fun. “We’ll have you home in no time.” 

“Won’t our _exciting_ little detour have added to the trip?” Frosta question, unbothered, as she shovelled popcorn into her mouth.

“Not really,” Adora shook her head. “Getting out of the atmosphere is a blip in comparison to travelling half-way around the planet.” 

“That’s…” Frosta’s eyes turned glazy. “Not comforting.” 

“Aww,” Glimmer teased, her smirk growing. “It’s alight Frosta, we can tuck you into bed too if it’ll make you’ll feel better.” 

“Hey!” Frosta protested, squirming as Glimmer reached out and _up_ (actually) to ruffle the younger girl’s hair. A handful of popcorn used as ammunition as it whacked into Glimmer before falling to the floor. 

Adora rolled her eyes. “Please don’t make a mess of my ship.”

“Where are you going? My birthday isn’t over yet.” Frosta asked, noticing Adora turning to leave.

“To find my wife.” Two years had passed and that was still the most cathartic thing in the world to say.

* * *

Catra was lying horizontally over the bed when Adora found her. Bow had left, or been dismissed, but either seemed like a positive sign if Catra felt okay enough to be left alone. 

Her eyes were closed, but not sleeping, fingers running through Melog’s mane where they were laid alongside Catra’s body, Finn’s teddy held against her chest with her other hand.

Adora joined them, her lower legs dangling off the opposite side of the bed to Catra’s, her head resting beside her wife’s, perspectively upside down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Adora offered, her tone soft, slow. 

Catra opened her eyes, letting out an audible, stale breath of air, before she spoke - and it came out like a rush. “I feel like it’s worse sometimes... that most of the people we meet don’t know who I am,” She began, Adora allowing all the freedom she needed to speak. “It feels like I’m lying to people. That they should hate me, be scared of me. After everything I did, I don’t deserve to have people trust me like that,” She glanced to the teddy in her hand. “I don’t deserve-” 

“Catra.” Adora interrupted her then, because that was not a trail of thought that was gonna do her any good. Venting and depreciation were _not_ the same thing, she’d learned, even if minds liked to blur the lines at times. 

Catra’s arm flopped over her eyes, her nose buried into the crook of her elbow. “I was so angry.” She said. “For such a long time. That the horde had stolen away my family from me. But I didn’t even have the self-awareness to see I was just a cog in the system and it was cycling round and round, and I was letting it happen. I was letting myself be a part of causing the very thing I’d spent my whole childhood mourning.” She paused, her chest rising, laboured, her words slow as she continued. “How many... How many of the kids Scorpia is looking after do you think would still have families if my armies hadn’t marched through their homes?” 

Adora pushed up onto her elbows, not surprised, but pained. “Catra.” She said, more sternly this time. “You said it yourself. You were just a cog in a system, they were _using_ you, and if you hadn’t been there they’d have just shoved somebody else into the gap and continued doing exactly what it was they were doing.”

Catra’s arm fell away, her eyes wet underneath, listening, but dubious. 

“They were not your armies, Catra,” Adora said, a change in tactic. “They were Hordak’s. And if that asshole gets to galavant around Etheria with Entrapta pretending he’s never been anything other than a cinnamon roll, then you get to be an angel in comparison. Alright?” 

Catra let out a laugh, only a few degrees away from a sobbing sound. But then she smiled, weakly, but a smile none the less, as her head turned toward Adora. “Alright.” 

She took the opportunity to kiss Catra on the nose then, observing how it twitched adorably like a disgruntled rabbit's afterwards. 

“You didn’t start the war Catra,” Adora promised. “You were lost in it.” 

They both were. 

It was alarming - now, how _ready_ Adora had been, how easily they’d made a game out of conquering a planet. And even back then she’d felt strong, she’d felt brave, she’d felt _lethal_. She’d felt like a soldier. But goddamn it, she’d just been a _child_. 

Catra found Adora’s hand without looking for it, the angle a little awkward, as their fingers linked together. Squeezing. Enjoying the peace for a moment, revelling in how different their lives had turned out from what their early expectations had painted for them. 

Adora sat up then, tugging her wife with her. “Come on. Frosta’s taking advantage of the time zone confusion to extend her birthday beyond twenty-four hours. She managed to dig some wine out of storage, and we should probably spend a bit of time with everyone considering we kinda ditched them today.” She smiled, warm. “If you’re up for it?” One bottle wasn’t going to do any harm between them, but Adora would stay sober anyway. Captain’s honour and all that. 

Catra smiled, the expression genuine, as she allowed herself to be pulled onto her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I can make no promises regarding the next chapter. Updates are as much guesswork for me as they are for you 🤷♀️


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back, planning on doing a few short chapters over the next few weeks to finish this off, thank you for your patience.
> 
> Also, please excuse the geography and timeline of this, it's not leakproof, I'm well aware.

The Kingdom of Snows was, as Catra often described with her usual utter lack of decorum; _really fucking cold._

Despite the fur (Adora assumed it would have helped, but apparently not) whenever they were here, Catra always ended up shivering, piling layers upon layers until she was finally warm. Snug. And completely ridiculous looking. More than a few of the garments, Adora noted, were stolen from her own wardrobe, but whatever, she wasn’t gonna complain. 

“You look like a teddy bear,” Adora mocked, reaching out to ruffle a hand through her wife’s short hair. “With cat ears.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but made no move to shove Adora’s hand away. “Yeah, well, you’re not the one who has to hike through an arctic winter to sit at a table for the next two hours and discuss the thrilling topic of winter rationing strategies,” she grumbled. “I can’t believe Glimmer’s asking me to sit in on this one. The adrenaline’s bad for my heart, doesn’t she know that?” 

Adora smirked. Before grabbing a knitted beanie, attentively positioning it atop Catra’s head while being careful around her ears. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“I’m not so sure _you_ will, you gonna be okay with the kiddos on your own for a bit?”

Adora shrugged. “They’re still asleep for now, kinda hoping they’ll stay that way.” 

“I’ll leave Melog with you as cavalry support. Just leave the babysitting to them if worst comes to worst.” 

Adora beamed sappily. “I love that you have more faith in your pet cat than your wife.”

“Ehh. You think too much. Melog’s all impulse — you’ll make a fantastic team.” Catra flashed her teeth in a grin, heading for the door with Adora’s hand in hers now. “Also, Melog’s not a _pet_.”

“No?” Adora followed, hands playing through each other like the eddies of two joining streams. “What then?” 

She genuinely contemplated for a slow minute, before, “they’re the love of my life, my rock, the reason I get up in the morning.” 

Adora pouted, all false and playful. “Aww, I thought that was _me_?”

“Can you two stop being so gross?” Frosta complained, stepping out of her own bedroom into the hallway, now dawned in her winter gear once again but with angry black surrounding her eyes. “No one wants to hear that.” 

“Trust me,” Glimmer inputted, appearing from the direction of the command deck. “From them? That’s far from the worst thing that could be tormenting your ears.” 

Frosta made a faux gagging sound.

“Glimmer!” Catra gasped. “I’m scandalised, I know you technically own the whole castle but there’s no need to make a pastime out of pressing your ear up against peoples bedroom doors at night.” 

Glimmer’s eyebrows skyrocketed, her face flushing crimson. “Are you forgetting we were inescapably stuck on this spaceship together for _years_?” 

“Okay!” Adora began chuckling awkwardly, ferrying them toward the exit. “Don’t you guys have political shenanigans to be getting on with?”

“Ughh, don’t remind me.” Frosta groaned. “But I guess thanks for stealing me away from it all for a bit though, it’s been a, uh, _a trip_.” She offered a mock salute then, immediately snagging Adora’s attention to the bruise growing over her cheekbone like a shadow. 

“Frosta, what is _that_?” Adora glowered, reaching an inspecting hand out.

She jumped away, like it _stung_. “Oww! Don’t touch, you ass.” 

“Frosta!”

“What? Ughh, you princesses are getting so boring in your old age.” Her scowl created a ridge in her forehead. “I got what I came for.” 

“Please don't go turning bar fights into _your_ new pastime.” Catra appealed.

Frosta’s eyes started to roll into the ceiling. “Alright, _mom_.” 

"Also, twenty-eight is not _old_." Adora's arms folded into one another. 

"Stars, you're _twenty-eight_? Shouldn't you guys be thinking about putting your name down for care homes, hip replacements and shit?" 

"Shut up." Catra shoved her, both of them chortling. 

“Morning guys,” Bow greeted then, smiling like a sunbeam as he approached. “We ready to head out?” Turning to Adora, “you gonna be good, or...?”

“ _Or_.” Adora replied, shrugging. “We’ll be fine though.” 

Darla hummed then, all echoey and metallic as the ship’s entryway descended. 

“See you in a few hours then, babe.” Catra pressed a kiss just over her cheekbone, Adora’s eye scrunching closed as she smiled. “Try not to get anyone killed, Scorpia won’t be pleased.”

“Roger that.” 

And then, the four of them were disappearing. Boots forming imprints of a path as they headed towards the castle. 

Gentle flurries of snowflakes fell as she watched, wind rushing up a whirl of it and making Adora shiver before she instructed the door to close again, turned around... 

And found Bella watching her. Catra’s hat from the market still lopsided on her head.

“Uh. Hi,” Adora said hesitantly. “You okay?” 

Bella just blinked at her, _super encouragingly._ And then she _pointed,_ back in the direction of the door that’d just closed. 

“You want to go outside?” _They’ve probably never actually seen snow before_ , she thought. 

And then Bella nodded, emphatic and unmistakable and _yes, please_. 

———

Melog’s paws left memories deep in the snow as they explored, glazing up to the sky and sneezing as a snowflake landed on the tip of their nose. 

“You doing okay?” Adora asked them fondly. “Are you even capable of getting cold?”

Melog tilted their head in reply, releasing a chirpy, rumbling noise from the depths of their chest. It sounded content. 

_Good. One less person to worry about._

The kids were in the depths of animatedly building a snowcat — it’d started as a snow _man_ but the top slumped off, and then Finn stuck ears on the toppled-over head. Beaming then as though they were proud. 

Melog’s hackles raised, prowling forward to tentatively sniff the face of the snow-creature that’d just materialised. But the way their tail swayed made clear they were only joining in with the game. The folding of their ears all pretence. 

Adora wasn’t _ir_ responsible, she’d found outfits for them — snow boots and jackets that were entirely and endearingly too large for the smaller two. But the ship’s stocks weren’t exactly prepared to be clothing _kids._

She observed, smiling, as Finn let out a laugh, barreling into Melog harmlessly as the larger feline dramatically dropped their weight to the floor with a false and grumbling ‘ _omphh.’_

“Oh no!” Finn announced, their voice cheerful, _giggling_. “Melog’s down!” 

The cat in question rolled, pinning the child underneath a languid paw before burying their face into Finn’s neck until they were squealing. 

Bella wondered back toward Adora then, the scarf around her neck almost comically large and loopy. “Everything okay?”

Adora wasn’t worried exactly, slightly _concerned_ perhaps — but she was certain the little girl hadn’t spoken a word the whole time she’d been with them. 

Bella shook her head, showcasing her hands which were now cold and trembling. 

“You want to go back inside now?” 

A nod.

 _Right_. Nothing wrong with being shy, Adora told herself. Before gathering the other two with Melog’s help and shepherding them back into the warm, _so nice and warm,_ ship.

Finn darted straight back inside the room they’d commandeered, snuggling under the bedding like they were trying to heat themselves up again, and _whoops_ , maybe she’d let them stay out for a tad too long. The others followed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Her hands moved then to cup around Bella’s smaller ones, blowing warm air while she rubbed to let friction work like a toaster. “Better?” 

Bella, notably, just nodded again.

Her frown must have been evident because Manx suddenly piped up. “Oh, Bella doesn’t talk.” 

Adora turned to him, her heart feeling like it was in a vice. “Not at all?”

He shook his head dejectedly, apparently lacking further clarification. “No.”

“Oh,” Adora exhaled, trying not to let the sound be shaky. “That’s alright though. Uh, you want some hot coco?”

Bella might not have even know what that was, Adora considered, but the little girl raised her thumbs into the air in agreement anyway. 

It was a few minutes into preparing the mugs that Adora remembered — Finn probably couldn’t have milk, and definitely not _chocolate_. The first time Glimmer had made this for Catra she’d spent the rest of the evening wailing and grumbling like she’d been poisoned. Theatrics aside, Adora had been genuinely terrified by how ghostly pale her girlfriend had gone. 

Hoping Finn wouldn’t be jealous, she set the third mug up with the substitute Catra had since delightfully discovered, warming, and adding a teaspoon of sugar just the way her wife liked. 

Finn didn’t seem to mind the alternative. Happily accepting the offering as Adora returned with three drinks precariously balanced in her hands. “There you go!” 

Melog turned to look at her then, she thought they might be offering her a _good job_ based on the way their eyes softly blinked. 

She preened a little. Unfurling like a rose under the first sun of morning. 

_This isn’t so hard._

The ship made a noise then, unexpectedly, letting her know someone else was about to board, which was strange considering the meeting shouldn’t have been over just yet. 

She found Catra in the hallway. “It’s finished?”

“Nope,” Catra snorted, _beaming_. “I managed to escape because I convinced everyone we needed to get the scamps to Scorpia’s as soon as possible — but also, most of the _exciting_ stuff was out of the way so our dear queen finally dismissed her strategic advisor for the day. I'm all yours again.” 

“Well, aren’t I lucky?”

“You sure are, _princess_ ,” Catra sneered in that way she often did when she was trying to stop herself saying something hopelessly romantic instead. Disposing of her many coat _s_ onto the hook near the entryway. “How have you all been? Missing me _terribly_?” 

“We made Melog!” Finn declared, peeking their head out the entrance of the room.

Catra raised one eyebrow so only her wife would notice. “Out of snow,” Adora added in explanation. 

“You had fun?” Catra turned to Finn then, entering the bedroom and apparently not at all territorial that Finn had a steaming cup of her coveted choice of hot drink in their hands. Laughing lightly when she said, “Jeez, Finn, you look frozen over.”

Adora worried then over the way her wife gradually began frowning, picking up easily on how the smaller magicat’s teeth chattered as they said, “I’m cold.”

“Yeah,” Catra said, uneasy. “I bet you are. You’re all _damp_.” The frown deepened. “What were you even doing out there? Swimming through the snow or something?” She sent a disbelieving look toward Adora that instantly had her blushing, sheepish. “These aren’t even _waterproof._ ” 

“C-cold,” Finn repeated, their whole body trembling now. 

_Shit._

“Are you two okay?” Adora inquired, turning to Manx and Bella. They both nodded, contently sipping at their drinks. Pink cheeked and rosy — but warm. 

“Uh,” Catra’s head cocked in concern, repositioning to kneel in front of Finn. “We need to get these clothes off you, buddy.” 

After rushedly downing the last of their drink, Finn began undressing themself with all the ease of a kid who'd been left to do this alone from the moment they had full control of their own arms. 

Pulling a few blankets around Finn's trembling body like a warm cocoon, Catra turned to Adora, a cheeky flair colouring her expression. "Just turning one into an icicle is pretty good going though. Congrats." 

"You want another drink?" Adora offered after rolling her eyes harmlessly at her wife.

Finn hummed something close to an affirmation, and Adora made an immediate beeline back to the makeshift kitchen, feeling the need to do something helpful. 

But Finn's shivering had turned violent by the time she got back. 

Catra looked _distressed._ Unsure. Her eyes finding Adora’s like she was asking for help. “Uh...?” 

Adora handed the mug to Finn, before placing her touch delicately over the tips of their ears. She knew for Catra this had always been the first indication of discomfort in the winter months, the first sign that she needed to slip socks on her wife’s feet while she was sleeping. 

They came back heatless, like Finn’s skin was actually leaching the warmth from the pads of her fingers. “Stars, kiddo, you’re _cold_ , cold.” 

Melog nosed forward then to press their cheek against Finn’s, giving off a troublesome, chesty rumble like a mountain lion once they pulled away. 

“You think so?” Catra asked, forehead like a valley. Melog nodded simply in reply. 

“What’s happening?” Adora inquired, caught up suddenly in the knowledge that these kids were _absolutely not_ acclimatised to cold weather.

“Melog’s suggesting body heat,” she explained quietly. “Hey buddy, uh, how do you feel ‘bout hugs?”

Finn _shrugged._

 _That’s not fair,_ andfor a split second, Adora worried She-Ra was about to actually break out, which also, helpfully, reminded her she had healing powers at their disposal — and that there was no true danger here despite how hypothermic the kid in front of them looked. 

Catra began tentatively, “you mind if I cozy on up inside those blankets with you? I’m pretty cold myself and could use some thawing out.” Catra’s following smile was all _soft_ , and it made something inside Adora melt like the wax of a candlestick. 

Finn opened up a curtain in the material, agreeing. Though visibly unfamiliar and confused a moment later by the way Catra moved to surround them, legs kinda crossed with Finn in the middle, and the blankets altered to flow over both their shoulders. 

The dopey smile Adora was trying to hold back clearly had made its way out regardless by the way Catra shot a quizzical glare toward her. 

_Teddy bear_ , Adora mouthed. 

“Alright, _you,”_ this eye-rolling thing was beginning to become a constant. “Why don’t you get this bus rolling, huh?”

Adora smirked back at her, and then, “hey, Manx. You wanna try flying the ship?” Adora extended. Earning a wide-eyed expression of _absolutely_ in return. 

Catra chuckled as he bounced onto his feet, Bella scurrying after them on their way to the command deck. It was only when Finn placed their _really fucking cold_ hand against the juncture between her collarbones, and Catra sucked in a breath, that she realised she’d also, embarrassingly, been _purring._

Their head tilted like an inquisitive puppy. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Catra frowned.

A tap over her chest. “That noise.”

“Purring?” Her forehead puzzled as deep as a canyon, _how could they not..._ “You don’t know what purring is?” 

Finn shook their head slowly, as though their eyes were asking; _should I?_ “Do it again?” 

“Uh...” It wasn’t exactly a conscious choice, often, and the sort of thing that actually became harder to do the more she forced her focus on it. 

Finn’s adorably large blue eyes blinked at her, waiting _oh so_ patiently. Shivering less noticeably now and content to be cuddled in her lap like this despite the fact their friends had dispersed. Catra matched the tilt of their head.

And then began to purr.

Fixated, they stared for a long, relaxed few moments at the epicentre of the vibrations. And then, so hesitantly she wasn’t sure if they were actually going to do it, Finn placed their ear directly over the skin just above her heart. 

A beat passed. 

And then she felt them _curling_ into her, eyes closing like it wasn’t just warmth they were seeking. 

Catra’s breathing stopped, but she didn’t flinch away this time — and she was intelligibly proud of the fact her arms folded around their body instead. 

“Uh, you alright little dude?” She nearly honest-to-god _choked._

Finn just mumbled something she thought might have been a _yeah_ , but they made zero effort to pull away, and uncharacteristically, Catra felt no desire to have the personal space return to her. 

Melog aggrandized their chest out like a smug lion when Catra’s eyes caught over them across the room. Like they knew, _they knew_.

There was that _goddamn_ radar again. 

_Beep._

_Beep._

After precarious _beep._

 _Okay, Melog,_ she thought, knowing they would be able to hear, _you might have a point._


	7. Chapter 7

Finn slipped discreetly out of Catra’s arms after a while.

But for the moments, or maybe even the minutes before it happened, Catra thought perhaps Finn was deciding that hugs were actually okay, were actually _nice_. Like sitting in a warm sunbeam as it fell through a window.

Her vision was all frills of unruly blonde hair, her cheek pressing into them to monitor the chill as it melted away. Her eyes aimlessly, unintentionally, drifted shut. Only fluttering back open again when she felt the little body wriggle in her lap. Evidently restless, but warmer now. Like the same thing that spring did to the landscape beyond their bedroom balcony every year.

Empty mug discarded to a bedside cabinet, Finn shook their head slightly as though freeing themselves of something, before moving to lower their toes noiselessly onto the metal floor of the bedroom. Back, but seemingly happy about it, in nothing but the tattered clothes they’d discovered them in at the market. Practically rags, Catra noted. But only those remained dry while the outer layers had joyfully soaked up melted snow like a sponge.

Growing up in the Horde with a wardrobe that had been _mandated_ to them as though the tailored garments grew on trees the same way ripe fruit did, she placed no blame on Adora’s mistake. No harm done. Maybe Adora would even let her laugh about it in a few weeks without turning sour.

Catra observed, amused, as Finn pretended in the very same way she knew she used to, that they were entirely blase about what had just happened. As if their heart hadn’t, for a fleeting, incautious moment, been open and raw on their sleeve.

_Huh._

_So that’s what that feels like,_ she thought, as Finn scurried from the room. Almost as though they were, or at least _feigning_ to be, suddenly disinterested in Catra’s existence.

How many times had she done that exact thing to Adora? Those occasions that stood out in bright colour in her memory, like when she’d let Adora hug her just a little too long and Catra’d gotten unintentionally, _mortifyingly_ , lost in the moment of it.

And then shoved her away.

At least Finn wasn't quite so thoughtless.

“Hey, Melog,” Catra started, her voice catching a little before she cleared it, earning their attention from where they were currently napping at her feet. It was as close to the cuddle as they could get without being impolite, she noted. “Is aloofness a cat-specific trait, do you think?”

Melog shrugged. At least, she _thought_ they shrugged, the mannerism was hard to pick up on their form, but the intention was passed on all the same through the melody of their voice in her head. _I would not know. I am not a cat._

Catra cocked her head, an eyebrow raised.

 _I am a shapeshifter_ , Melog elaborated. _Feline apathy is not a trait I would share through any genetic means._

 _Right._ “ _Apathy_ is a bit harsh though.”

They tilted their neck to match hers, it was as close to mocking as they’d figured out thus far. _Your nonchalant manner, when compared to the depths of your emotions, would suggest it’s quite apt, actually._

Catra’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “You’ve got to stop spending so much time with Bow’s dads, you’re starting to talk like a scholar.”

 _Why would I do that? I like to read; their home is full of books._ Melog deliberated, returning their chin to rest on crossed over paws.

Catra stood, making for the doorway, then, wondering fondly as she glanced back over her shoulder. “ _Can_ you even read?”

 _No._ Melog trilled. _Lance reads for me._

“ _To_ you.”

 _Yes. It is the same._ Melog rumbled as they stood, stretching languidly like it was the most effort they’d put into anything all day. Before following out the door at her hip.

* * *

Catra found her wife manhandling breakfast into existence. That speck of something dark, or at least _distant_ , worrying behind the knot in her eyebrows. Catra was certain her own instantly reknitted to reflect something similar. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I just—” Adora sighed, clearly _not_ good. “I don’t know, I feel like I’m messing everything up.”

Catra shrugged. “No biggie. Maybe we should opt for a few more of Spinnerella’s cooking classes and we’d have his mess cleaned up in no time.”

“No.” Adora huffed, actually _huffed —_ but Catra recognised this frustration wasn’t directed toward her, necessarily. “Not about _this_ ,” gesturing to the food strewn over the counter as though Catra wasn’t already aware of that distinction. “But shit, apparently about _this_ too, actually, because I clearly can’t do anything right. And ugh, I just—”

Catra let her face soften, reaching out a hand to take Adora’s before she spiraled. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, her tone as light as a promise. “There’s no grade for this you know, we just have to get them there in one piece, or three, preferably. More of a pass, fail kinda situation if you’re really looking to make a test out of it.” Catra joked, joy like a sunrise inside her chest as Adora let out this, admittedly watery, little laugh. “Stars, you almost turned Finn into an ice cube and I had a spontaneous panic attack because they tried to _hold my hand_ of all things. Forget nursing homes and hip replacements, you think we should put our names down for parenting of the year award? I reckon it’s a shoo-in.”

Adora snorted.

She’d never understood why people considered that something to tease about, it was the most endearing sound in the world, Catra thought. And her smile must have revealed a little (a lot) of that sentiment because the weight sitting dead and heavy over Adora’s shoulders suddenly lifted a little.

And then, Adora said, retreating a single step back under that nebulous cloud. “Did you know Bella can’t talk?”

“Oh...” Catra hesitated. “I’d assumed there was... _something_ going on there. But I’m sure Perfuma has some useful tricks up her sleeve — it won’t be the first time they’ve worked with a kid in need of a unique kind of assistance. And I’m pretty certain she mentioned one of the clones that works with them is mute, actually. Maybe they can teach her that jazzy signing stuff.”

The trouble written all over Adora’s face alleviated, sunbeams breaking through. “So, she’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” Catra confirmed, bopping her wife affectionately on the nose with the end of her finger. “They _all_ will be, Scorpia and Perfuma are pros at this stuff. So, stop worrying so much about it. They’re gonna give you frown lines and that’s _my_ job.”

Adora shoved at Catra’s shoulder playfully, eyes returning, mournful for an entirely different reason, to the meal she’d been assembling. “Speaking of jobs, you gonna help me fix this or what?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s unsalvageable at this point.” Catra’s eyes squinted. “What even is that? An omelette?”

“It’s the universe agreeing with you about me needing more cooking classes.” Adora groaned then, dragging a defeated palm down her face. Sighing, collecting herself free of it a second later. “But, uh, is Finn good now at least?”

“Yeah, they, um—” Adora must have seen the way Catra’s face fell just the smallest inch, because she was, regrettably, looking worried all over again. “They’re toasty as a marshmallow now. But they didn’t—They didn’t seem to recognise what purring was.”

“Oh?” Adora frowned. “Not at all?”

Catra’s head shook. And there were only two explanation’s she could come up with for that. Either a; they simply weren’t capable of making the sound like she was, and hadn’t caught the genetic, hybrid bingo for that particular trait. Or b; they were unaware that they even _could_. The latter, naturally, being a concept with the potential to be heartbreaking. Because what had that meant to Finn if they’d spent their whole life waiting, unaware, to finally hear it? To finally be held by someone who looked and spoke like them.

The first was just as likely, she told herself. Most people _couldn’t_ purr. On a dare, Rogelio had once created a sound that was almost similar but not quite the same. And it wasn’t like she’d ever met another magicat to know the precedent for normal.

She felt Meglog nuzzle into the back of her knee then, pushing into the cramped kitchen space to input; _kittens learn vocalisations from family. If the little cub cannot, it may simply be from lack of interaction._

“Yeah, but how young would Finn have had to have lost them to not even be able to purr? Don’t cats do that literally minutes after giving birth?”

 _Hmm, yes. But your people are more than just_ _simple_ cats, _after all._

“Maybe Finn just _can’t_ ,” Adora offered, having done her best to follow a conversation she could only hear one half of. “Maybe it’s just a _you_ thing.”

“Maybe...” But the way Finn responded _had_ seemed innate, _instinctual_ , like puzzle pieces slotting together that should have been there from the start. And far stronger, even, than the way Adora had melted against her when she’d allowed the noise to escape as kids.

Something somersaulted in her stomach as the ship began to descend.

“I guess we’re here,” Adora noted.

* * *

Manx was looking endlessly sheepish as the two adults stepped into the room. “I didn’t do it,” his hands raised in surrender.

Adora migrated to peer out of the window. “It’s alright, we’ve nearly arrived, it’s just Darla taking us down.” And then, hushed to Catra as she stepped up to join her. "I left it on autopilot."

Catra gave a mock gasp, before looking out over the expanse of a view. “I still find it so weird that the sky’s actually blue here now.”

“Yeah,” Adora breathed, and it was, _dazzlingly_. “Me too.”

Much of the metalwork and the infrastructure of the Freight Zone had been dismantled, repurposed, since the occupation. A small, thriving town blooming in the heart of it.

And there were fields here now — crops and orchards and animals all miraculously flourishing in a land that had been so dead before. Like an abandoned pond that’d been left stagnant and murky. But Scorpia’s thunderstorms had worked miracles to bring nutrients back to the soil here.

“Hey, guys, you wanna take a look?” Adora offered, listening to the patter of feet as they approached the window, peering out with wide, awestruck eyes.

Adora pointed to one of the larger, cozier buildings. A flower meadow flashing colour over the roof garden, and a jungle-gym growing like a castle in the yard. “That’s gonna be your new home.”

Finn strained to push up onto their tiptoes, staring, unbalanced, down to where Adora was directing their attention. Something close to a scowl scrunching their eyebrows then. “That’s not home.”

“Yeah,” Catra replied. “Hence the ‘ _new’_ part. _”_ But that swiftly earned her the jab of an elbow right between two of her ribs. Her wife shooting her a look like she was recommending just a _smidge more tact please_ , as Catra rubbed a soothing hand over the spot and mouthed a melodramatic _ow_.

Finn observed the ground below them benignly, everything a drastic shade more green than they’d no doubt be used to.

The tension in Adora’s limbs deflated, thinking there would be no further hiccups.

And then, Finn was saying, “no,” as they shook their head. “I want to go _home_ now.”

_Oh no._

In retrospect, they probably should have prepared for something like this sooner, Adora acknowledged.

Manx stepped forward before Adora had the chance to clumsily attempt herself, kneeling in front of the smaller child, speaking carefully. “Finn, listen, okay?” Taking their hands in his. “We can’t go back there anymore. We’re _not_ going back there, do you understand?”

“But we have to,” they protested, the frown on their face looking harmless despite their apparent intention. “We have to wait there for Kiya. She’s not home yet.”

Adora’s blood turned a few degrees colder, sharing an uncomfortable look with Catra.

Then, Manx explained, voice soft as satin. “Kiya’s gone, Finn. She’s not going to come home.”

Finn’s voice raised. “No!” The points of their teeth flashed defensively, and Adora started to think maybe the expression wasn’t actually so harmless. “We have to go back!”

“We _can’t_ ,” Manx insisted. “We’re here now, things are gonna be better from now on, I prom—”

Finn yanked their hands away. “I want to go home!”

“That’s not an option anymore,” Manx tried to argue uselessly, frustration beginning to taint his own voice.

Finn hissed. The black of their eyes sharp as needles as they turned, bolting in an instant from the command deck.

Manx reactively started to follow, wavering when Adora placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, maybe I could try talking with them?”

* * *

Adora’s feet reverberated over the metalwork of the corridor as she walked, it wasn’t a stealthy approach, she wasn’t trying to be. Ducking into their own bedroom, she grabbed the rabbit teddy that still remained by their pillows, before seeking the door to the room the kids had been sharing.

“Finn?” She asked, voice tentative, as she stepped through the threshold.

At first glance, it appeared vacant. But she knew Catra had always chosen confined places to hide when she’d been upset. The darker and more secure the better. And she picked up immediately on the tail peeking out the gap where the wall met the bed frame.

She settled herself nearby with her back leaning against cold, harsh metal. Placing the teddy just where the shadow of the mattress began, she watched as one hand slowly ventured out like they were trying to be discreet, before dragging it underneath.

“I’m sorry about Kiya.” She attempted, tone light as a feather. “But she’d been gone for a while, yeah? You guys had been so brave looking after yourselves for so long, and all three of you clearly did such a good job of it too. But it’s natural to miss the person who used to look after you. The person who made you feel loved and safe.”

She paused, uncertain if the noise she’d just heard was tearful sniffing or not. “And she helped you guys, right? Helped you survive out there before she left?” Adora’s chest felt like a lead weight was replacing the heart meant to be there. Catching as her nails began to fuss over her cuticles. “But you know, there are other people who want to help you, Finn. Other people who are _trying_ to help you. And I know Kiya can’t be here anymore, and that sucks. But we can. We can be here.” She took a slow, steadying breath. “So, will you please let us help you?”

A weak objection followed. “I don’t need help.”

Adora swallowed thickly. “I know you don’t. But what about your friends, what if Manx hurts his leg again, or if Bella gets sick? What would you do then?” If Finn had the courage to try to steal the sword from She-Ra, she considered, then maybe their protective instincts would run deeper than any stubbornness did. Her voice turned softer when she added. “And just because you _can_ survive on your own, doesn’t mean you should _have_ to.”

Finn crawled out, finally. Ears dropping and eyes on the floor as they positioned themselves at the opposite edge of the room, legs tucked up against them with the teddy in their lap. “It’s not that.”

“Not what?” Adora frowned, encouraged despite it. "You can tell me. It’s okay.” A thought flickered through her mind then. “Or, would you rather tell She-Ra?"

“No,” Finn began. “Y _ou.”_ Their hands fiddling with the buttons that were the rabbit’s eyes. “Kiya said… that when I got older. She said she would explain.”

“Explain...?”

“About my family.” They clarified, as a thread of Adora’s heart snapped under the pressure of how _hopeful_ they sounded. “She said she would tell me about them when I got older.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Adora whispered. “Finn, I’m… I’m sorry. But Kiya—She passed away. She’s not here anymore, she can’t—”

“I know,” Finn replied, ears forlorn again. Fingertips running along the line of sutures Catra had added to mend where the stuffing had been falling out. “She said she would explain. And then she left.”

Adora watched, grief-stricken, as their eyes began welling up with tears, rubbing their wrists roughly into their eyeballs.

“You know,” Adora began. “I never knew my family either.”

Finn glanced up at her, all watery and surprised.

“I was taken away from them when I was a baby, raised by someone who ended up passing away too.” She wasn’t going to delve into details, that didn’t matter right now. “It’s hard. I know it is. But I survived because I found a new family and a home that loved me more than anything. Do you think you might be able to do that too?”

“Like She-Ra?”

Adora nodded. “Exactly.”

They took a moment. Another. And Adora was genuinely starting to believe they’d have to let them return like a feral thing to the Crimson Waste. And then, Finn declared, rising to their feet. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Adora beamed, feeling foolishly proud of herself as she stood, before offering out a hand. “Come on, then. We better show you around your new home.”

Finn approached slowly, their significantly smaller palm slipping into hers.

“You’re gonna love it, I promise,” Adora told them, guiding them both back to the others.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a scene here inspired by a comic (below) made by @rhinocio on tumblr, who was very kind in allowing me permission to do so :) 
> 
> https://rhinocio.tumblr.com/post/633232740753588224/catradora-see-a-kitten-and-be-like-is-anybody

Returning here, Finn clinging to her hand like they were trying to deceive themselves into not being anxious, Catra could feel old wounds reopening. As though the sutures had never set quite right.

But it was the memories, not the place itself, that were stained now. The Fright Zone wasn’t the same anymore, she had to remind that stubbornly skittish part of her brain. It _wasn’t_. And the contrast was vivid — because there were blue skies here now, and the fruit trees were blossoming with pure, white petals, and the air was strikingly _clear_ as she let it fill her lungs.

A practised breath. Another.

It was a little bit disgustingly beautiful, actually, Catra thought. An exhibition to how chasing away a shadow could let the light flood right back in again. But most of that was down to Scorpia and Perfuma — as if they hadn’t been able to stop their combined personalities seeping into the very soil of the landscape.

It was _nice._ Just not somewhere Catra would choose for herself.

But even _before_ , home had never been here for her, she’d tried to pretend, a false and bitter sense of contentment that had washed away the moment Adora led her to the threshold of _their_ room in Brightmoon. All doubtful, shaking hands and ‘only if you want to.’

But, Catra learned, home was not a set of coordinates, or a pin on a map. It was a _feeling_. And it was found in the things and the people you willingly surrounded yourself with, found in the way time turned the world to a tapestry of seasons outside their bedroom window, and found, most importantly, in how Adora turned with them. Cuddling just a little bit tighter, closer, in the months when the nights grew long and dark, frost collecting like constellations over the panels of glass that held the view.

Home was familiar, home was mundane.

Home was everything and all she’d ever wanted.

Catra acknowledged immediately when Finn’s hand tightened in hers as they approached the orphanage.

She’d not flinched this time, because she’d _offered —_ but the way they’d blinked at her, a hue between surprised and grateful, had been a remedy to any guilt lingering from the day before.

Melog walked in step on Finn’s other side, a little hand tangled in mane.

 _Is that even comfortable?_ Catra asked soundlessly, an eyebrow raised as though she was trying to hide the gesture.

 _No_ , Melog replied, making zero effort to showcase that fact in a way that would be perceivable to Finn.

The kid’s hand paled in hers, their expression all harsh shades of anxious as soon as they stepped inside the building. Discovering, under warm lights, a room aiming for the likeness of a dignified reception — but there were crayon scribbles all over the walls and origami creatures hanging from the ceiling. She’d been worrying over Finn’s pinned ears, and only noticed when one particularly low hanging (swan? she thought) bumped into her forehead.

Catra manoeuvred around it, hearing the oak door squeak shut behind her as Adora shepherded in the other two children.

They had, and Catra was aware, and slightly guilty toward the fact, not spent much time here. She wouldn’t know where to go looking for their friends even if she tried.

A desk sat to the right, a set of double doors just ahead and a hallway adjacent that disappeared toward the sound of classrooms. At least, that’s what she assumed the melody of chaos must have been. It reminded her of the training halls she’d grown up in, but louder, more... cheerful, she noted. Like the lessons were a game rather than a chore.

Melog stepped inquisitively toward the noise, Finn’s hand dropping from their mane instantly, as though moving in that direction was an awful, _terrible_ idea.

Finn’s eyes turned even more flighty at the recognition of just how many voices that probably was. Before they relocated to stand closer to Bella and Manx, forcing Catra to kinda swivel around or have her arm bent awkwardly, facing Adora now.

There was a bell on the desk, Catra realised then, but there was also very much no one at attendance behind it. Adora made the discovery at her heels, following her wife’s line of sight.

“Should we ring it?” Adora suggested.

Catra shrugged. “As declarations of arrival go, I would have thought the landing of an intergalactic spacecraft onto their front yard would have done the job.”

And then Rosie burst through the double doors, her grin a beam of unadulterated sunshine.

“Aunty Dora! Catra!” Her eyes scanned over the new arrivals then, like a benevolent queen checking over the well-being of her subjects. Marching into the middle of the group before taking Finn’s free hand despite their valiant attempts to hide behind Catra’s legs. The kitten wide-eyed in alarm at the _pincer_ that was tugging lightly on their wrist. Stolen away, the warmth of Finn's palm slipped from Catra’s. She consciously had to suppress her hand from flexing after. “Come with me! I’ll show you your new bedroom!”

Finn’s ears were still lowered, but no longer pinned. And they made no fight as Rosie, taller by barely an inch, guided them back in the direction she’d materialised from.

Finn glanced over their shoulder, eyes flitting to their friends, and then, for a moment, to Catra.

Entirely unmediated, she found herself replying with a slow, languid blink of reassurance. Their ears softened a little, she noted, her own forehead contorting minutely in shock once Finn had turned back around. _Had she really just done that?_

Scorpia appeared at the doorway then, panting like she’d been jogging to catch up, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about the wait, you guys, a lot to keep up with around here! Oh,” she bounced out of her daughter’s way, letting the two of them proceed into the hallway beyond. “Uh, follow the leader, I guess? Rosie will get you settled in guys, she’s the real vp around here.” Scorpia chuckled, gesturing for Manx and Bella to follow.

They stood stock-still for a second. Visibly unsure of this weird new world they’d found themselves in where people seemed to openly and truthfully _care._

And then they trekked after Finn, Manx lifting Bella into his arms before he dashed through the entryway like a cornered creature who’d been split from their pack.

Catra was certain Perfuma must have been somewhere in that direction because she faintly heard Rosie declare, “Momma, the new friends have arrived!

And then they were gone. The door swinging leisurely behind their departing silhouettes as Scorpia allowed it to close.

“Gosh, thank you so much for bringing them here, you guys,” Scorpia began. “We keep thinking we’ve found the last of them, and then more stumble onto the doorstep. Poor little things,” she scratched the back of her head with one claw, pensive. “I guess jobs like this are never-ending though, huh?”

Melog’s forehead bumped into Catra’s thigh then. Because, that little bit of guilt Catra thought had disappeared? It came back in a whirlwind, speaking, almost choked as she nodded. “Sure.”

She felt Adora step up behind her, arms circling around her waist. Catra tolerated the attention only because it was Scorpia standing witness in front of them, she might have playfully (but intentionally) ducked away from it otherwise.

“We were happy to help. It was actually kinda fun.” The vibrations of Adora’s voice against the flat planes of Catra’s back were grounding enough not to spiral further.

Scorpia hadn’t seemed to notice. At least, she noticed the _hug_ , obviously, just not the reason for it, because her eyes were suddenly shining like gemstones as though threatening to gush out _‘you guys are so cute!’_ Instead she said, “Oh, that’s good that it wasn’t too much of a bother, I know you guys aren’t particularly... uh, you know—” a pincer waved dismissively through the air. “—about kids, so thank you for—”

“Wait,” Adora interfered, her arms loosening around her wife’s torso. “Hang on. Glimmer said almost the exact same thing yesterday. What—Why is everyone assuming we don’t like kids? Where has that come from?”

Scorpia blinked at her, head tilting like she was lost. “Uh? I mean, I love you guys, a lot, obviously, but you’ve never been particularly subtle about not wanting to spend time with Rosie. Or any of the other kids here.” She explained, her voice polite as she shrugged. “We get visits all the time from everyone else; Bow’s here every couple of weeks teaching the older one’s archery, Entrapta has a mini robotics club going on, even Mermista drops by for spontaneous swimming lessons every so often.” Scorpia continued, turning slightly sheepish. “But it’s fine! We get it, it’s obviously not an obligation or anything, not everyone likes being around kids, and that’s valid! You know!”

“That’s—” Adora stumbled, loose jawed. “That’s not—”

“Okay, we had no idea any of that had been happening.” Catra tacked on, amused. “You all trying to train up an army behind our backs or something ?”

Scorpia’s eyes flashed wide, like she’d just realised the implication that _oh shit, maybe we are._ “No! No, it’s not like that. It’s enrichment. But I guess no one wanted to make you guys feel like helping with the kids was an expectation.”

Catra glanced to Adora over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked.

“We don’t _dislike_ them,” her wife began. “We’re just—”

“Terrified of how breakable they are?” Catra finished for her. She’d said it half-jokingly, but the remaining fraction moved to crush like a dead weight over her ribcage. Because yeah, actually.

They’d survived a childhood that had strangled them half to death while convinced that was what breathing was supposed to feel like.

They’d been broken. And it’d left their flesh with deep-rooted scars and calluses and the fear that they’d never know how to be gentle in that way children deserved, so they’d simply... stayed away.

Catra hadn’t realised the avoidance had been so luminously obvious to all their friends though.

“What happens now?” Adora asked then, quiet. “With them?”

“Well,” Scorpia started. “They’ll get settled in, they’re sharing a room all together — that’s pretty important at this stage, they can decide later on if they want to stay that way or not. Then they’ll get the grand tour this afternoon, start classes with the others in the morning, and then a health check with the nurse later tomorrow once they’re more acclimatised to being here. And I guess over the next few weeks we’ll do all we can to try to track down any family they might still have out there. But they’ll stay here as long as they need to otherwise — unless anyone decides to adopt them. But I’ll be honest, these three might be tricky as I imagine they won’t want to be separated, and rehoming siblings, biological or otherwise, has proven a, uh, _added challenge_.”

“Right,” Adora said, glancing aimlessly around the room.

“So, I guess our job is done here then?” Catra inquired, notably not lightened by that fact.

“Yeah, of course, you’re all good to go if you want!” Scorpia granted. “It’s been super nice to see you both, I’d offer to let you stay for a bit, but playtime around here has to be carefully scheduled in.” She chuckled, a little bit limply.

“I guess we should head out then, leave the professionals to it,” Catra said, almost _insisted_ , trying to be inconspicuous as she grabbed Melog by the scruff before they could press their face into the wood of the door to nose it open, feeling a deep, lamented noise building at the back of their throat. Which would be, frankly, _mortifying_ if it broke out. But not at all her fault, she would argue. “Weren’t Sparkles and Arrow Boy in need of a lift home?”

Adora nodded. Her eyes distant like she was also mourning how abrupt the departure had been. “Yeah. No, you’re right. We should… head back.”

“Oh, one last thing,” Scorpia hurried, her tone the typical level of unassuming that Perfuma normally made up for. “Just in case this sort of thing does ever happen again — there is, technically, an official procedure set in place that we’d really appreciate if you could follow in future.”

“Oh shit, yeah, I forgot about that,” Catra nearly snorted. “I’m pretty sure we’ve still got that disgustingly long list of instructions saved on Darla’s database somewhere. Don’t worry boss,” she gave a mock salute. “We’ll be sure to prep next time.” She pivoted then, facing her wife. “Ducklings are back in the pond, and as much as I’ve enjoyed this spontaneous little holiday, we do actually have jobs we’ve been neglecting.”

“Ducklings?” Adora echoed quietly, before Catra nudged her towards the exit.

Scorpia waved goodbye. “Feel free to visit whenever you want! But no pressure!”

* * *

Catra let herself collapse onto the heap of cotton and down that was their bed, running a hand through damp hair as her eyes fell to where Adora was, like an addicted thing, still working at her desk.

“I know I said we had jobs to get back to but you are actually allowed to sleep at night, Adora.”

“Thank you, I am aware of that.”

“Are you?” She stood, padding on bare feet across the room, glancing over Adora’s shoulder at the paperwork strewn over the desk, picking one up to examine it. “Ew, and I thought rationing was gonna make me gouge my eyes out, Glimmer’s really got you working on—” she squinted at the file. “ —next year’s budget for plumbing infrastructure? Stars, why do we get lumped with all the boring shit. Do Glimmer and Micah just spend all day prancing around the throne room or something?”

Adora rolled her eyes fondly, rotating to pinch the sheet back from Catra’s grasp. “You sure like to diss on your job a hell of a lot considering it’s voluntary and you could stop literally anytime you wanted to.”

Catra shrugged, bouncing up to sit on the desk. “It’s nice to feel needed.”

“We could start travelling again if you're bored?” Adora offered sincerely. “You know, when I was replicating my cartography notes for the library I realised there was this whole section we hadn’t explored that much. We could head back out there? And since Entrapta made those upgrades to the ship the travel time would probably be cut in half.”

Catra hummed noncommittally. “No, I’m content here,” Adora looked back to her notes then, Catra’s eyes falling to where Adora’s pencil was tapping mercilessly against the desk surface. “Dude, you’re gonna fracture the lead if you keep doing that.” Catra stole it from her, propping it up in one of the repurposed mugs that held a handful of others in various colours. “Are you?” Catra asked then.

“Am I what?”

Catra’s head tilted. “Content?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Adora nodded. “No, I’m good, I’m just a bit fidgety I guess.”

“And you think agonising over Glimmer-assigned homework is the best way to destress?” She raised a bold eyebrow.

“No, I just—” Adora sighed, standing slowly as though she agreed she should probably stop, but hadn’t yet sold herself on the idea.

Catra watched as her wife observed her. The focus of her eyes brushing over her face, clearly undaunted by how long she’d been standing there in silence despite the fact Catra was starting to shift underneath the attention. _What are you thinking about you weirdo?_ And then a hand reached out, fingers brushing into the mess of short, dishevelled hair just underneath Catra’s ear.

Catra approved her head to tilt, a purr beginning like the first shoots of a sapling. Before Adora stopped.

“Do you think we should send your shampoo formula to Scorpia? I mean, you spent months perfecting that and it’s the only reason you tolerate baths now and I think Finn might appreciate it too.”

 _Oh._ “That’s what you’ve been worrying about all evening? The kids?”

“Uh, maybe?” Adora said lamely.

“You know Scorpia and Perfuma have got this right? I’m sure they’re more than okay.”

Adora frowned like a cavern. “But what if Manx’s foot is still messed up? What if I didn’t heal it properly, I should have mentioned that right?”

Catra rolled her eyes dramatically. “They have a resident nurse, _She-Ra_. I’m sure they’re all set to handle stuff like that. But honestly, when have your healing powers ever _not_ worked above and beyond. You brought me back from the dead and you think you’re gonna struggle with a twisted ankle?”

Adora considered that, and then, “But I was also thinking maybe Bella would like to keep that hat you bought, she seemed to really like it. We should have given it to her as a goodbye.” Her eyes turned sorrowful. “We should have said goodbye.”

Catra sighed, scuffling through the mess of Adora’s desk for an empty sheet of paper.

“What are you doing?”

Catra set it down in front of her wife, equipping her a pen too. “You’ve been agonising over the wrong homework, dumbass. Write a list of everything that’s spinning around your head right now, then, once you’re finished, come to bed, and we’ll call Scorpia in the morning so you can get the debrief you clearly need.”

Adora sunk back down into the chair, nerves no longer fizzing aimlessly now she had somewhere to direct the energy.

Catra thought her wife would have purred if she could as Catra kissed the top of her head that was so opportunistically in reach. “I’m going to bed, please don’t stay up too late.”

* * *

She felt Adora slip under the covers a while later, she’d drifted off to that strange floaty place on the verge of actual sleep a few times. But it was rare that her brain would let her fully commit to it with such an empty bed.

“You better now?” Catra mumbled, eyes still closed. But the steady beat of Adora’s heart was answer enough that the feckless tension had dispelled from her bloodstream.

“Yeah,” Adora let out a breathy, quiet laugh, snuggling closer so Catra’s head was tucked under the crook of her neck.

Naturally, she began to purr. Catra let it flood her senses like a lullaby, her mind turning weightless for a brief moment, before she was yanked back to their bedroom as Adora began to talk. Voice low. “Did you mean it? When you said you were content earlier?”

Catra hummed sleepily. “Of course.” And moments like this? Ventured toward _bliss._

She assumed for a minute the conversation was going to be short and sweet, feeling no requirement to keep herself alert, but then Adora continued and Catra tried not to groan. “There’s not anything _more_ you might want?”

Catra wasn’t actually sure if she was legally conscious right now, or if she’d remember the exact wording of what Adora was saying by the morning. But she could recognise her own voice was husky and coarse and _groggy_. “Like what?”

She felt Adora breathe, her chest expanding as though she was preparing to release the words in a rush. “I wasn't just being civil when I told Scorpia it had been fun.”

“Babysitting?” Catra joked softly, the words spoke into Adora’s collarbone. “Adora, we are _not_ gonna spontaneously adopt three kids.” She’d said it like _don’t be stupid,_ but also, and Adora was keenly aware, as though she might consider just _one._

Adora replied, just as gentle, like it was a question. “Finn seemed to like you. And you seemed to like them too.”

Catra was suddenly wide awake, pulling away so she was looking into Adora’s unmistakably blue eyes. “Well, yeah, can you blame me? They’re literally just like us.”

“I know, it’s actually a bit uncanny don’t you think?” Adora laughed gingerly. “But it’s not surprising, they are the only other cat person we’ve ever—”

“No,” Catra shook her head, an act that was difficult while lying on her side. “I mean they’re like _us_. When we were stupid kids. You give Finn the barest bit of attention and they look at you like they’ve been _starving_ for it.” It felt like a bird taking flight, this sensation in her chest, but she also felt the need to catch it before it got hopelessly away from her.

"Have you, um—Have you ever thought about kids? Us having them, specifically?" Adora asked, as though she were walking through a field of landmines with only that sudden display of emotion as guidance on where _not_ to tread.

“What, we survive one road trip with a litter following behind and you suddenly think we’re mom material?” Catra scoffed. Only to regret it immediately as Adora’s form retreated as if she’d just been stung. “Look, I just mean that we’re not exactly cut out to be parents, alright. Not after what we went through. We didn’t get the luxury of experiencing what a healthy family was supposed to look like — and actually being prepared to handle the emotional welfare of a kid is pretty different from shouting at it while it completes drill exercises for seven hours a day.” Catra paused then, her voice turning softer. “Yeah,” her eyes closed. “I have thought about it. But just because we want a kid doesn’t mean a kid wants us, you know?”

Adora rolled onto her back then, gazing absently up at the ceiling. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Catra watched her across the sheets and the heavy darkness of the room for a few minutes, the bedding turning cold in her absence. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Adora reassured, shaking her head lightly. “It’s just—fucking _Shadow Weaver_ , you know? I wish she didn’t still have so much control over how our lives turn out.”

Catra knew then, as Adora raised an arm for her to nestle under, resting her cheek on Adora’s shoulder, that she’d not done any unsalvageable damage. “I know, right? What a bitch.” She let herself smile weakly, new vibrations brought to life to match that of Adora’s gentle laugh, as Catra began purring again. “We’re gonna be okay though. And so are the two little rugrats and the other, very large rugrat — they’ve got each other. And now they’ve got a whole host of people who actually know what they’re doing on the sidelines rooting for them. You’ve been the hero. Now you get to go to bed.”

Adora chuckled again at how sternly she’d said the last line, before, “Thank you,” nearly a whisper.

Catra made a disgruntled mumbling noise in response, before, “Shhushh,” stretching her legs all the way down to her toes as she hooked an arm over her wife’s torso.

And yeah, Catra was pretty sure she was there now, and it was manifesting in how cavernous her purring had turned.

_Bliss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to ask that if there's anyone happily and quietly reading this that you might consider sharing some love? I've been a bit disheartened and unsure with this fic and I could really use the support ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Also, I apologise for any inconsistencies, I have 'can't re-read her own writing to save her life' disease.


	9. Chapter 9

Adora was half asleep and so _wonderfully_ warm, the sunbeam on her cheek probably a minute away from bothering her eyes, when Catra suddenly _jolted_ upright. Which was unfortunate for a number of reasons. Firstly, because Adora’s head had been _oh so_ content as it rested over her wife’s collarbone, but primarily due to the fact the disturbance wrenched her from sleep as though the palace’s siege alarm had just been triggered. She-Ra very nearly materialised.

“Was goin on?” Adora mumbled, trying to force her eyelids to stay open. They’d been having such a _beautiful_ nap. She actually wanted to whine a little.

“Adora, this is a _disaster_ ,” Catra announced, unprompted.

Melog chuffed at them from the foot of their king bed then, drowsy-eyed, but it wasn’t the warm sound Adora associated with a greeting - she thought it was probably as close to cursing as Melog got. She’d never asked Catra for a translation. But the feline quickly settled again, paws like a mountain lion’s stretching over the sheets and crinkling the linen underneath their toes.

Adora drowsily circled her arms around Catra’s waist, slumping against her wife’s shoulder and wondering how difficult it would be to just… pull her back down into the bed with her.

“What’s a disaster?” She spoke the question practically into the skin at the back of Catra’s neck. Yet her wife wouldn’t budge, and Adora thought maybe she’d found her own answer to that question.

“Stars, Frosta was right, we _are_ getting old,” Catra grumbled, “It’s the middle of the day and we’re sleeping, like _grandmas.”_

“Couldn’t you have had this revelation _before_ we got in bed?” Adora countered, finally tugging Catra to lay with her, their heads melting into comfy, feathered pillows. Adora sighed, happy. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a grandma.”

“It’s a bit boring, don’t you think?” Catra challenged, her voice soft as Adora rearranged her back into her arms.

 _You’re the one who curled up in a sunray_ , she thought.

“I think after a lifetime of training for and _winning_ an intergalactic war, a little bit of boring is _well-earned_ ,” Adora argued into the dark strands of Catra’s hair. “Frosta can have all the bar fights she wants, I’m _done_.”

Catra began purring. Then the sound broke apart, amused, and far too _alert_ now, “Don’t you have a meeting in an hour?” She yawned, her sharp teeth on display for a second, _squeaking_ a little, Adora noted in delight.

“Ugh, what time is it?” Adora rolled, reaching towards the nightstand and the tablet thingies Bow and Entrapta had designed for ease of communication between the kingdoms (AKA their extended circle of friends). The clock told her she had twenty minutes at best. But also, curiously, that Scorpia had tried to call.

She tapped open the message that had been left in their failure to answer, her eyes skimming the text as she relented, settling upright against the headboard.

“We being summoned to save the world again or something?” Catra nudged a finger against her wife’s side to regain her attention, relocating underneath her t-shirt when it didn’t work the first time.

Adora replied with a distant, “What?” her eyes not leaving the screen.

The same hand reached out toward her forehead, a claw lightly tapping there. “You’re frowning.”

“Oh, no, it’s—” The creases in her brow deepened. “It’s Scorpia.”

“Oh?” Catra moved to join her, an arm brushing close against Adora’s side as she got comfortable. “What’s going on?”

“They think they’ve found Manx’s family,” Adora relayed, glancing through the rest of the message. “Apparently a few years ago they had someone leave a description of their missing nephew with them. Fifteen-year-old, lizard-folk boy, red scales, yellow eyes—”

“Manx is _fifteen_?” Catra sputtered.

“Yeah, apparently. That’s what the nurse estimated based on his, uh, _teeth_. Weird.” Adora puzzled, before shaking her head free of it. “Anyway, they’re pretty certain it’s him.”

“Shit, seriously? That’s _awesome_.”

Adora nodded, “Yeah, they’re organising a meeting later this week — she asked if we wanted to be there.”

“Aww,” Catra lazily stretched her arms up into the air, teasing out the muscles before letting the limbs fall back down to her lap. “We get to witness them flying the nest? How sweet of her.” She smiled, her eyes flickering up to Adora’s expression, and the trenches still buried above her eyes. “Why aren’t you happy about this, you doof?”

Adora started, “I don’t know, honestly.” She reminded her jaw to unclench. “Do you think he’s... happy about it? Scared? I mean, they’re his family but he probably doesn’t even _know_ them. And if it’s his aunt that contacted, that means for definite that his parents probably aren’t alive, right?” She looked to Catra, who shrugged gently. “Like, if _my_ family showed up out of the blue I think I’d be equally stoked as _petrified_ , they’re these people that are _supposed_ to know you, and you’re _supposed_ to know them too, but they might as well be strangers — and then suddenly you’re expected to drop everything to make room for them in your life and—”

“Hey,” Catra breathed, taking one of Adora’s hands, causing the device to flop into Adora’s lap. “So, that was _a lot_ , for like, a twenty-second time span.” She wove their fingers together, holding on a little tighter than was necessary for Adora to know she was there, but the contact was _grounding_. “That’s why Scorpia sets up these meetings, yeah? To take things slow, to transition into it. She’s not gonna kick Manx out — if it _is_ his family, they’ll help him find his feet before he goes home with them.”

Adora was still, her eyes sad and glued to their hands. “And what if they decide they don’t want to take him home?”

“Then he gets to stay with Finn and Bella in an equally loving and supportive environment where he will be incredibly happy, end of,” Catra said like there was no use arguing with her.

Adora let out a restless sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Catra took the opportunity to snatch the tablet from her lap, tapping open the message Scorpia had left in their inbox and forming an easy response.

Adora hiked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m letting Scorpia know we’ll be there. You clearly need a visit to satiate your hero complex and to know, for _sure_ , that they’re doing _fine —_ and that you’ve got nothing to be stressing about.” Catra explained. Discarding the device to the nightstand, her eyes scanned briefly over her wife, before letting out an unrestrained smirk. “You should probably check the mirror before your meeting though, because you’ve got catastrophic bedhead right now,” she teased, ruffling a hand through Adora’s hair to make it _worse._

“Hey!”

* * *

Melog bound towards the entryway, nosing the doors wide open like a puppy trying to get into a treat cupboard as they arrived at the children’s home. Perfuma, having received them as soon as the ship had touched down, guided them along a colourful hallway. The Krytan kept their nose in the air, investigative, as they travelled.

A few children sat in classrooms gawked at the giant cat padding past the open door frames, and Melog chuffed to them every time.

_You’re such a sap, Melog._

They gave her a flat stare over their shoulder in reply, she turned away quickly before they could send back anything potentially condemning.

“Dude, do you keep these kids permanently attached to their desks or something?” Catra taunted as a distraction.

“What?” Perfuma glanced back and blinked at her. “Of course not. We have a rotation system, actually. They have different classes in the morning and afternoons, with plenty of room for play and downtime in between. Enriching their lives with joy and excitement and the _wonders_ of nature is just as important as what they can learn in a classroom, you know.”

She said it like the words might actually turn into flowers. Catra made a faux retching gesture when Perfuma’s attention diverted to a door ahead of them. Adora snorted, shoving playfully at her wife’s shoulder with no real effort put into it.

They stepped into the room at Perfuma’s beckoning. It was small, _cozy,_ with a door leading out to the courtyard on one side and a table in the centre. Someone had made tea; a set was placed on the table.

And Manx was there, sat in a chair and listening to Scorpia talk in a voice as soft as summer clouds. By the look on his face, the conversation was obviously supposed to be encouraging.

His eyes flickered toward the motion of the four of them stepping inside and his face immediately, nervously, morphed into a smile. Adora noted then that he was wearing _nice_ clothes now. Nothing fancy or formal, but they were new, clean, and he looked _handsome,_ bless him.

“Sup, big guy,” Catra grinned. “You doing alright?”

Manx’s legs swung over the edge of the chair, his face falling the slightest fraction, probably at having to evaluate an answer. After a beat, he settled on, “It’s... a big day,” and the way he glanced briefly to Scorpia suggested it was something that they’d talked about — that he was allowed to be excited, scared, _overwhelmed._ That it was normal, that it was _okay._

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Catra slipped into one of the spare chairs. Melog followed, shrinking to their kitten form and leaping onto the table, careful not to knock over the tea. Manx reached out immediately to pet them. “How’s your leg holding up? Still standing strong?”

Adora listened long enough to hear Manx’s affirmative, before turning to Perfuma, inquiring, “When are they arriving?”

“It should be any minute now,” she explained. “The poor dears had to travel from a refugee village a while north from here, but we arranged for noon.”

“And you’re sure it’s them? That he’s the one they’ve been looking for?”

Perfuma nodded, certain. “His aunt left one of his baby scales along with a letter when she visited before. We had Entrapta run a DNA test. It all checks out.”

Adora’s attention fell back to Manx, who now had a content Melog curled up in his lap. The boy’s expression was visibly easier.

“I hope it goes well.”

“These things can be difficult. Raw emotion can be... treacherous to navigate — but it’s the only way we can move forward.” Perfuma explained in various shades of _soft_.

A clone appeared at the door a few minutes later, informing Perfuma visitors had arrived at reception. She dashed out the door immediately, and Adora swivelled to find Manx suddenly looking pale, his hands clammy as they brushed over his knees.

* * *

They watched from a distance. Scorpia escorted Manx and his _aunt_ and his _cousin_ out to the courtyard, the little room proving snug for a family of lizardfolk.

Adora didn’t catch his aunt’s name. This moment was private and personal and _not hers._ So she tugged Catra towards the trunk of an oak tree a distance away, sitting against the base of it, close enough to watch, but not to listen.

Manx carried the tray of tea to a picnic table stationed under the sunlight. Nervous hands offered a drink to the woman who was staring at him in the very same way Adora thought she’d been looking at Catra in that moment before the world was supposed to end. Equally as close to tears as _captivated._

His cousin was _tiny._ Pale red scales like her mother, and so young she probably hadn’t had her first moult yet. She was walking on four legs as often as two, but while Manx’s aunt seemed cautions to hug him, the little one crawled across the table and, slowly, _slowly_ , placed the palms of her hands on either side of Manx’s cheeks, beaming like a sunflower.

Scorpia, naturally, was the first to start crying.

Catra let out a quiet, chesty laugh, rolling her eyes at her friend. “Perfuma should have been the one to watch over them, who left Scorpia in charge of family reunions? What a dumb idea that was.”

Despite the words, Adora noticed the way her eyes had watered over just the slightest degree. “You okay?”

Catra’s head pivoted toward her, eyes blinking in a quickened rhythm. “Yeah,” she promised, taking one of Adora’s hands and squeezing it, “I’m okay.”

Adora hummed, soaking in the atmosphere. Not the words, individually, but the _feelings_ , thick in their air as syrup on pancakes and probably just as sweet. There was nothing artificial in Manx’s smile as they talked. And although his aunt was clearly less familiar with speaking common, and Manx had not been raised around the language of the lizard folk, they had little trouble understanding each other.

Adora tuned in instead, like spinning the dials of a radio, to the childlike chatter from deeper inside the building, and the birds singing in the branches above them. Acknowledging then, with a start, that the tree their backs were pressing into likely wouldn’t exist without Perfuma’s magic — but things grew so _fast_ here.

Adora casually glanced around, before— “Hey, where’s Melog?”

Catra made an uncertain noise, eyes quickly scanning the perimeter but finding no leads. She shrugged. “Chasing mice, maybe?”

Her eyes now caught on an open window frame, and Adora whispered, “Oh,” as she picked up on the suspiciously Finn-shaped child attempting to climb out of it, and the candescent _shimmering_ on the ground just below.

Adora captured her wife’s attention, amused, and directed her toward the sight. Both of them watched as Finn landed with an awkward ‘oof’ onto something invisible, soft, and _moving._

Understandably, Finn squeaked.

Melog materialised in a heartbeat, staring at the kitten disapprovingly from where they’d collapsed onto their back. Before _growing_. They picked Finn up by the scruff of their neck and carried the kitten towards Catra and Adora with an expression that even Adora knew as proud.

Needless to say, Finn was _not_ pleased as the Krytan dropped the child down beside them.

Catra raised an eyebrow. “Phenomenal escape plan there, Finn, you made it a whole five feet. All of them _down_.”

They _hissed_ , and the sound had Adora frowning. “I wasn’t escaping. I just wanted to watch,” they explained, crossing their legs underneath them and gazing, with eyes that looked _sad_ , toward the table where Manx and his aunt were finally getting to know one another.

“Where’s Bella?” Adora inquired, her heart breaking a little. It settled then, the realisation that in fixing one family, they might only be breaking another. She shifted uncomfortably against the bark digging into her back.

Finn shrugged, hands now playing with the wraps around their ankles. “With Fae.”

“Who’s Fae?” The question was from Catra, this time.

One of their ears twitched, and they explained simply, “She’s teaching her to talk.” Finn mimicked a gesture with their hands, evidently some of the signing they’d learned too. Their ears drooped, and something in Adora’s chest fell all the way to the centre of the planet. “I think she’s going to go home with her,” Finn said quietly.

Catra’s forehead crinkled. “Like, she’s getting adopted too?” Finn gave a small nod. And Catra’s expression of _surly that’s a good thing_ fell away instead to an understanding, uneasy, “Oh...”

Guilt could feel cold, Adora realised.

They all went quiet, then, and still, apart from the motion of Melog nuzzling their head into Finn’s lap. A little hand moved to rest on the cat’s forehead, curling through layers of blue mane. They’d remained in giant mode, but somehow it seemed more of a comfort that way.

Adora and Catra shared a look.

“Are you supposed to be in class right now?” Adore asked, criticism absent from her tone.

Finn’s ears pinned back flat against their head anyway; the topic, more than the question, was the source of their distress. “It’s not fun.” Then, quieter, “I can’t read anyway.”

Catra let out an inexplicable, tiny whine. But she missed Adora sending her a puzzled stare, because her eyes were scanning the courtyard to determine if Scorpia was aware of the kitten’s presence, and the potential for sudden _absence_.

Catra asked, “Yo, Finn, you wanna get out of this hippy convent for a bit?” They glanced toward her, head tilted, but ears _pricked_ in interest. “I’m pretty sure we spotted an ice cream place nearby when we landed the ship.”

* * *

“How come you didn’t get a change of wardrobe? Scorpia doesn’t seem the one to play favourites.” Catra quizzed, noting that Finn was still in the same outfit they’d found them in, albeit at least _washed_ since then.

They made a noise of agreement from where they sat atop Adora’s shoulders, happily lapping at the cone of dairy-free ice cream they’d bought in the village nearby. “I got new clothes. I don’t like them, I can’t _move_.”

Catra tutted, “I hear that.” Most of _hers_ were specifically tailored to not be restrictive. But while uniforms had been delegated to them in the horde, she’d always set her claws to tear the fabric where she’d needed that little bit more freedom, little bit more stretch.

Catra spotted a trail of melted honeycomb and vanilla streaming down Finn's hand. She pulled out a napkin, one of the many she'd pocketed for this exact reason (but for _Adora)_. "Stars, why are you both so messy?" she chortled, reaching up attentively to clean Finn’s hands.

"It melts so fast," Adora complained, as though that were a valid excuse, trying to stay on top of her own ice cream before it liquidised.

Catra shoved a napkin into her hands. "Here, you dummy. Why don’t you ask for a cup and a spoon next time?" She’d not bought one for herself, but that was the option she’d chosen for Melog, her big, elegant _doof_ of a cat licking out the contents as she held it for them.

“Because the cones are way more fun!” Adora protested. “Right, Finn?”

“Mmhm, ‘s fun!” They agreed, before, _horrifyingly,_ taking a wide-jawed _bite_ out of the top of it.

Catra watched, amused, and too late to stop it anyway. An innocent few seconds passed before Finn’s pupils blew outwards, a silent yelp rising at the back of their throat before their senses reconfigured back to the universe. “Whoa there, buddy, don’t eat so fast,” she warned, “it hurts.”

“‘S maybe not so fun.” They stared skeptically at the waffle cone in their hand, nose scrunched slightly like a grumpy rabbit’s.

Catra laughed, a light sound. “Give it a minute, you’ll be alright.”

Adora was looking at her very peculiarly when her eyes fell back down — soft, she would have described, _unreservedly_ so.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t say anything.” Adora grinned, her eyes wide and warm.

* * *

Scorpia was pacing out front when they returned to the orphanage, checking under bushes and up tree branches while muttering like a frenzied thing. Her attention snapped up to meet them as they approached, Finn was still contently perched on Adora’s shoulders.

“Oh, thank _goodness_.” Scorpia strode to meet them, chuckling nervously. “Gosh, you guys, we were _worried_. You can’t just sneak off like that, Finn!” Then, to Catra and Adora, “Where did you _find_ them?”

Adora met her wife’s stare. An initial ‘ _I won’t tell if you don’t’_ flashed between them before Catra accepted that being honest was probably better than leaving the blame all on the kid.

“Finn only left after we _invited_ them to, Scorp,” Catra explained, crossing her arms, _defensive_.

Adora raised her shoulders just enough to be visible without wobbling the kitten sat there, her hands securing around their ankles, and tacked on, “We wanted to take them out for the day.”

Scorpia blinked at them. “Right...” She took a calming breath, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Right, okay. I love you guys, you know that, but could you _please_ stop kidnapping kids as a pastime? We have a system in place for a _reason_. It would save a lot of stress on our end.”

Adora noticeably paled. “Sorry. In hindsight that probably wasn’t the best move.”

Finn wriggled then, like they were asking to be _down_. Adora lifted them easily with her hands under their arms, ducking her head a little to raise them up and over before carefully dropping them to the ground.

They skipped up to Scorpia, taking one of her pincers in their significantly smaller hand. “Don’t be mad, please. They were nice.”

She softened immediately. “Rosie’s been missing you, bud, why don’t you go on ahead and find her?”

“Okay,” Finn agreed, making a happy noise before slipping through the front door as Scorpia held it open. They paused at the threshold, turning back. “Are you gonna leave?” They asked, with eyes like a fawn.

Catra shared a glance with Adora, before shrugging. “We’ve got a few more hours to kill, might stick around.” Finn _beamed_ at that _,_ finally disappearing through the doorway.

“So,” Catra swayed on her feet, facing Scorpia again, “They convince you to let us out of the dog house, or do we have to listen to a lecture?”

Scorpia let out a tortured sigh. “No, you're fine. They probably needed a break from _all this_ anyway.” She gestured at the building behind her.

Adora cocked her head, concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, uh,” Scorpia began, “Finn’s not settled in as well as we’d hoped. The other two have been great – Bella’s getting the hang of signing and progressing with that like a little trooper, and Manx, bless his heart, I think he’s just been enjoying getting to be a kid without two younger siblings depending on him. But Finn…”

Catra’s tail twitched, pressing, “But Finn what?”

Scorpia scratched the back of her head with a claw. “There’s been some fighting incidents.”

“Finn’s been _fighting_?” Adora’s eyes went wide. “But they’re such a sweetheart.”

“Oh sure,” Scorpia said, with an uncomfortable laugh. “They’re quite the little _scamp_.”

Adora frowned, divots forming above her eyes. “That doesn't sound good.”

And almost at exactly the same time, Catra said, “Did they _win_?”

“Catra!” Adora scolded.

“What?” Catra laughed, raising an unconcerned eyebrow. “Finn’s a kitten! They play fight, it’s _normal._ ”

“Huh.” Scorpia tilted her head like a puppy. “We hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“What was it Perfuma was saying about ‘enrichment’?” Catra gestured quotation marks in the air. “Maybe get the kid out of a classroom when they don’t even know how to read, and out climbing trees or something. Better that than _windows_.” Sure, in retrospect, the Horde had been a phenomenally shitty place to grow up, but one small grace at least was that she’d never been asked to sit at a desk for hours at a time. Limbs get _reckless_ when you're not allowed to use them, she’d found.

“Right, no, that makes sense.” Scorpia nodded, looking a little bit relieved at the newfound knowledge. “We’ll look into having Finn’s schedule changed around.”

“Anyway, how’s Manx doing?” Adora redirected.

“Oh, he’s doing good! He’s such a brave little dude. Perfuma gave him the rest of the day off to decompress, but today seemed like a really good start,” she informed them, gesturing over her shoulder. “Do you wanna come inside?”

* * *

They found themselves in the ‘playroom’, Scorpia called it. Catra would have described it as a _trip hazard_ , as though the kids here were pulling toys out of boxes just for the sake of it.

“Oh, be careful, those hurt when you step on them.” Scorpia pointed, her forehead knotting a little bit as she watched a curly-haired six-year-old dislodge something from a shelf to their right. “Billy! Don’t play with that one, that’s from aunty Entrapta!” She attentively removed the device from his hands, apologising. Melog stepped closer to sniff at it. Their whole face scrunched up in a sneeze, head shaking in distaste. “I don’t actually know why this is in here,” Scorpia contemplated, before placing it on a _higher_ shelf.

Catra raised an amused eyebrow toward her wife.

Scorpia turned back to them then. “This room is a bit chaotic actually, might not be the most welcoming for newbies. We have a crafts room? Uh, jungle gym?”

Adora’s eyes found Rosie and Finn by one of the far walls. _It's good they've found a new friend, at least,_ she thought soberly _._

“Here is fine,” she confirmed, her features softening. Scorpia gave an encouraging nod, before the two of them relocated to find somewhere to sit on the padded floor. Turning to her wife, Adora whispered, "Uh, what do we do, exactly?”

Catra snorted. "It's the _playroom_ , it's pretty self-explanatory." She pulled a discarded bundled of building blocks towards them. "Here, you wanna build a castle with me?"

Adora, naturally, set to _work._ Like an architect of multicoloured wooden bricks, her hands steadily formed a replica of Brightmoon before them. And it wasn't that Catra had noticed any visible tension in her wife that day, but she seemed brighter by having something simple and meaningless to keep her focus on for a while. Her troubles disappeared like footprints in a stream.

They gathered an audience.

Kid's eyes slowly turned away from whatever they'd been doing before, and toward the monument Adora was absentmindedly putting together like puzzle pieces. Catra occasionally, lazily, aided in digging out shapes to fit the minor details.

Adora's beam of innocent pride once she'd finished had Catra's heart rocketing. Her tail swayed back and forth against the floor behind her.

Someone _pounced_. Catra immediately yelped, her fur floofing up along her spine.

* * *

Adora caught sight of the motion instantly. She tried not to let her face betray her as Finn's eyes turned to slits, tracing the pattern of Catra’s tail. Their ears were pressed flat, their tongue poking out the corner of their mouth, and their body wiggling a little in preparation. Before they _shot_ forward, and landed claws first _._

Catra's squeak was more surprised than pained, Adora identified.

Her wife’s head snapped around, acknowledging the culprit of the sting in her tail as her fur calmed again.

Then, dramatically, she _flopped_ to the floor, mimicking defeat. "Oh no! The mighty Finn has launched an attack on Brightmoon, what are we to do?" She made a sound like she was dying, before a gasped, "She-Ra, you're our only hope!"

Finn's eyes turned excited and owlish as they made a charge toward Adora's tower, but, as part of a sneak attack, Catra suddenly rose from the dead and pulled them into her grasp. She sprung her legs back – to do that thing cats do, you know, when they want to _disembowel_. It was familiar enough; Adora still had scars sprinkled along her arm from the first time she'd tried to run her hand over Catra's tummy fluff as kids.

Bad idea, _bad idea._

The smile on Adora's face shrivelled, but before she could yelp out a 'Catra!"–

Finn was squealing in _delight_. And the heart that was thumping in Adora's ears like thunder realised that Catra's claws were retracted. She was being _gentle_.

Adora also realised, sheepishly, that she was suddenly eight-foot-tall, (she'd later debate it was _intentional_ ), before a swarm of giggling kids charged towards her.

* * *

The room divided, half on defence and half on _destruction_. Catra led the attack as they attempted to bring down the castle, a legion at heel beside her. Melog and Scorpia stood as referees (the latter mostly calming anyone who got a pinch too excitable).

Adora worried for a second that this would be weird; a reenactment contaminated with the years they'd spent on opposite sides of a war. But it wasn't. It was _fine_ , and it was mending, in a way, that everything that had been so horrific could be repurposed now into a harmless children's game.

She wondered then, at what point history lost its power to hurt, and instead melted into folklore — but looking towards Catra and the sparkle behind her eyes, Adora thought maybe that was _already_ happening.

The game dissolved the minute Scorpia announced it was ‘tidy up time’, at which point Adora allowed everyone, regardless of allegiances, to topple the tower into a heap of wooden blocks that clattered noisily to the floor. It was gonna need putting away anyway, and the melody of laughter was worth it.

And then, grinning deliriously, Adora shrunk back into herself.

“You enjoy yourself, you dork?” Catra teased, her face a mirror to every golden thing Adora was feeling too.

Adora hummed, “A little.”

Catra’s hand shot away in surprise as Melog’s nose bumped into her fingers. They indicating like a pointer dog toward Finn, who was yawning cavernously now as they tottered behind Rosie to reallocate toys into their boxes.

Her wife’s face softened, and Adora asked, “What’s Melog saying?”

“I believe the academic translation was ‘sleepy kitten’. They think Finn needs a cat nap,” she elaborated.

“Ha,” a quiet sound. “They’d fit right in with us, then.” Adora wasn’t super certain why she’d said it. But Catra wasn’t frowning, exactly, when she turned back toward her. There was the slightest movement of her forehead, but it wasn’t confrontational – _curious_ , perhaps.

She followed Catra’s eyes as they moved again. Finn was glancing around the room now, in the direction of a chair in the corner, a sunbeam on the windowsill, and then, towards _them._ One of Catra’s ears flickered, “Hey,” she, very gently, shoved Adora towards the floor. “Sit down for a second.”

“What? Why? I gotta put the blocks away.”

“No you don’t, I’ve got it. Just trust me, alright?” Catra insisted, pushing a little bit harder, just enough to make a point but not nearly enough to make Adora stumble.

She sat. Aware, but trying not to make a big deal about it, that Finn kept glancing over to her. Catra and Scorpia set about gathering the mass of wooden blocks, her wife’s gaze occasionally flickering over to her and smirking like she was waiting for something eventful to happen.

It was only a little while later – a while in which Adora was left feeling lazy while everyone else in the room was busy tidying, even _Melog_ – that Finn padded towards her. Moving on all fours, eyes blinking slowly up at her.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly. “You tired?”

They trilled, a languid sound, announcing a firm yet unconvincing, “No,” before—

Adora sucked in a breath as Finn began to curl up in a ball beside her, pacing in a circle a few times before nestling down with their back pressed against her leg. Their ears lowered and their tail looped around their body, the tip resting over their nose.

Catra was smiling like she’d captured the sun within her sternum when Adora’s eyes found hers. Evidently embarrassed by the intensity of it, Catra rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she moved away to continue putting things back into storage.

Adora stayed stock still, with the kitten falling asleep at her side.

* * *

Adora carried Finn toward the bedrooms, eventually, with Rosie guiding her by the hand and Melog trotting behind.

Catra stayed with Scorpia, preparing the play area for the next batch of kids that were supposed to be arriving.

“You guys run a pretty tight ship around here, huh?”

Scorpia was watching her all moony-eyed, bizarrely, when Catra spun around in search of a response.

One of Catra’s eyebrows drifted upward. She huffed out a stern, “What?”

“Nothing.” Scorpia smiled innocently. Her voice noticeably sounded _smitten,_ but like she was trying to cover it up. “It’s just, you _know_ …”

Catra’s expression didn’t waver.

“You guys are so cute with them,” Scorpia gushed. “And I know, I _know_ kids aren’t really on you guy’s radar right now, but Finn’s been talking about you two nonstop for weeks now and it’s—”

“Whoa,” Catra interrupted, “They _have_?”

Scorpia let out an affirmative noise, eyes like gemstones, “Oh yeah. They’ve been asking almost on a daily basis when you guys were gonna visit again, and they keep making sure the older kids know that they’re friends with She-Ra 'so they better be nice if they don’t want their butts kicked'. And, obviously, I don’t mean for it to be a pressure, or anything _intimidating,_ but it just seems like they’ve taken a liking to you guys and it’s _cute,_ is all _._ ”

Catra kneeled, packing away a selection of small metallic spaceships into the crate in front of them. “Yeah,” she shrugged, “They’re cute too.” Warmth turned her cheeks rosy.

Apparently, it was the _wrong_ thing to say, because it was like a matchstick thrown haphazardly onto a dry log heap.

“You know,” Scorpia began, in a voice so sweet Catra knew immediately that something had sparked. “Theoretically, if you and Adora _did_ have a kid together, it would look an awful lot like Finn.”

Catra was running out of mess to distract her hands with. “Your point?”

“Just that, like, evolutionarily, I wouldn’t be surprised if it triggered something, you know? Entrapta described it once, there’s this whole psychological thing behind it. How a human kid would look pretty noticeably different to a hybrid one, and that we’re hardwired to find traits that look like us more adorable, right? And maybe you’d never really seen the appeal before because of course you’d never been around one that _looked_ like you, but now that you _have_ it might’ve…”

Catra’s eyes narrowed at her friend, as though it would fend off the conclusion to that ramble.

“Stirred up some mommy feelings,” Scopia finished.

Catra scoffed. “‘Mommy feelings’? Are you serious?”

“Hey,” Scorpia chuckled, her tone affectionate. “It’s not supposed to be an insult, wildcat. You’re the ones who took Finn out on a day trip because he was feeling a bit low.”

“Yeah, well,” Catra deflected, ear twitching, “It’s not like it matters. Pretty sure me and Adora are the least-equipped people on the planet to be taking on a kid.”

Scorpia blinked at her — shocked, Catra almost believed. She threw a teddy straight at the taller woman’s face to snap her out of it.

And then, Scorpia declared _oh so_ casually, "I would have thought there wouldn’t have been a better choice in the whole _universe_ for raising a cat kid than you and Adora.”

Catra released a short, laboured laugh. “You don’t have to white-lie to me just because I’m your friend.” She’d been kneeling, but she acknowledged then that she’d collapsed her weight a little down onto her shins. Her eyes were blinking rapidly. She was staring at a rabbit toy similar to Finn’s she found in her hands. It wasn’t the same – too plush, much less threadbare – but she realised then that Finn hadn’t felt the need to carry Bunny around everywhere today, and that probably counted for something.

“Hey,” Scorpia said, as softly as she’d been talking to Manx earlier that day. Eyebrows scrunching a little in distress, in _understanding._ There was a careful pause before she began, “You know most parents don’t actually _know_ what they’re doing most of the time, right? There’s no orientation meeting or guidebook— I mean, we do offer classes here, so I guess, _actually_ , uh, but _whatever_ ,” she shook her head dismissively. “Most of it is just about doing what you _can_ , because they need you, and because you’re there even when the rest of the world might not be.” She paused, sobering. “And honestly, all that most of the kids here dream about is just knowing that someone cares enough to be willing to stick around.” Her smile was unfairly kind. “Like, obviously, as I said before, _no pressure_. But if it was something you wanted, you shouldn’t worry that you’d be anything less than great at it, wildcat.”

“Jeez, Scorp,” Catra let out a watery laugh, rubbing the wrist of her sleeve over her cheeks (she wasn’t crying, they’re just damp, okay?). “You trying to ruin my reputation on purpose?”

Scorpia grinned, more playful now. “Aww, buddy, I’ve been watching you all day, you’re doing a pretty good job of that _all_ on your own.”

“Shut up,” Catra snickered, swatted the rabbit plush against her friend’s arm, as the very last tendril of a long-dead witch of a woman slipped out from under her skin.

* * *

Finn’s head rolled against Adora’s shoulder as she walked, their weight propped awkwardly against her hip despite the fact they’d arguably outgrown the easily-carryable stage. Melog watching, fond, as they padded alongside.

Rosie shepherded them down the corridors, towards a small bedroom with a single twin and a bunk bed.

“Up,” Rosie directed, pointing at the highest bed. Which was, uh, _convenient,_ considering Adora had to get them _in_ there somehow.

She-Ra gave her the few extra feet she needed. She slipped Finn easily onto the mattress, despite them being limp as a ragdoll, before pulling a blanket bunched near their ankles up to their shoulders. Finn let out a drowsy _mppr_ in response to the motion _,_ eyes blinking open slightly. They yawned so wide their face split open for a beat.

They observed her with such languid, sleepy eyes that it almost seemed surprising that they _weren’t_ purring.

“Hey. You okay?” She inquired, half aware of Rosie as she scuffled out the room and back towards her mom, task accomplished.

Finn blinked at her with long, dark lashes, and said shyly, “Wanna ask you something."

Adora returned to herself, feeling like the skirt and tiara was too frilly for whatever this was about to be. Still tall enough to meet their eyes, she prompted, “Uh, shoot.”

“Rosie…” Finn glanced away, not meeting her eyes as they began.

Adora encouraged carefully, “What about her?”

“She looks like her moms.” Finn elaborated hesitantly, ears drooping, but meeting her gaze now.

Adora’s head cocked. "Uh, yeah, she does. That’s kinda how it works."

Their ears pricked, attentive, as though that was a new concept they were still discovering. "Kiya said, maybe, my parents might come back... someday." Finn shuffled, attention flickering away and back again, hands kneading into the bedding, _nervous_. Before, “I... look like _you_.”

And Adora waited patiently for _more._ Puzzle pieces had not yet slotted into place. Finn gazed at her with such _endearingly_ soft blue eyes. Then it _clicked_.

_Oh._

Something behind her sternum _ached_. “Oh, Finn. That's not— we're not…"

Finn’s ears flattened again, every shade of bashful, as though they hadn't had much hope in the first place and felt stupid for having asked. They rolled over then to face the wall, _away_ from her.

“Stars,” she said under her breath, then, louder, _purposeful_ , “Finn, if you were _ours_ we would have never left you on your own like that, knowing that it was within our power for you to be with us.” _Did they really believe they'd be so willingly forgotten, so willingly left behind?_ Unsurprisingly, she found her eyes welling up, wet and heavy. “Your parents would never have left you unless they had no other choice, Finn.”

They made a sound suspiciously like a sniffle.

“Finn...”

A hiccup, before curling tighter in on themselves, “I’m okay.” Shifting, like they were drying their eyes. “You can go now.”

Adora shared a mournful look with Melog, who made a low noise filled with exactly the same sentiment. Glazing around desperately, she identified Bunny at the foot of the bed. She reached for it, and showcased the teddy where Finn could take it if they wanted. Reactively, they pulled it tight against their chest.

“It’s okay to _not_ be, you know,” Adora told them, earning a roll of their tear-stained face back toward her. “You’re allowed to be sad, and I know Manx leaving must be scary, but you’re gonna be okay. I promise.” Melog made a chuff of agreement at her heels. “You have so many wonderful people looking out for you here, people who just want you to be safe and happy.” Adora moved a hand towards their forehead, brushing blonde strands from their watery eyes when they didn’t shy away from the movement. “And even if Bella finds a new home too, she’s not gonna be far.” Adora reasoned that if Fae worked here, then it made sense that Bella would still be here during the day anyway, like Rosie was. “And Manx won’t be gone. Just a little bit further away, and that’s nothing a spaceship can’t fix.”

“And you’ll come back?” Finn asked, and she noticed then, just like earlier, that it was very much a _plural_ you.

“Yeah, we’ll be back.” Adora smiled, lightened as they returned the expression.

Their attention fell to Bunny’s ears. Finn ran their hands over the worn fabric. “You promise?”

“I—” her breath _stopped._ It was so torturously familiar that she contemplated for a moment if Scorpia would finally snap, were she to stage a kidnapping just _one last time_. Her voice cracked. “Yeah. I _promise_ , Finn.”

She jumped as Manx cleared his throat from the doorway.

Melog trilled melodically in welcome as Adora stumbled out. “Hi— hello.”

Finn immediately shot upright, leaning over the edge of the bed frame like they had no fear of falling out. “Manxie, you’re back!”

“Well, yeah, I’m not going yet, dude.” He looked briefly to Adora, _knowing,_ but soft, then back to the kitten, who appeared as though their tail should have been _wagging_. “I heard you went on an adventure?”

“Yeah, we got ice cream!”

Finn suddenly _jumped._ Adora found her arms full of kitten for a moment, before they wriggled and slid down to the floor — apparently a preferable option to just using the bed’s built-in stairs.

Manx settled on the twin, back propped up against the wall, and Finn instantly scrambled up the comforter dangling over the side of the bed to sit beside him.

“How was _your_ adventure?” Finn pressed, and Adora was certain the rapid switch in mood was gonna leave her with vertigo, but maybe now was a good time to slip outside and leave them both to rest. She’d noted Manx looked as though a nap would do him some good, too.

 _Big day,_ bless them _._

“You’re leaving?” Finn noticed immediately, of course.

Adora nodded, repeating as though it were a vow, “We’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” they said, like they were doing their best to believe her. A _tiny_ wave. “Bye-bye, Adora.”

“Bye-bye, Finn.”

* * *

Adora found her wife in the hallway outside the playroom. Catra’s expression was glazy and distant as she watched them approach, until Melog nosed into her palm and seemed to snap her out of it. Adora took her other hand, asking, “You okay?”

Catra nodded, blinking slowly. “Yeah.”

“We should probably head off soon. You ready?”

And then Catra said, with a tone that required far more courage than Adora thought was necessary for an answer than came so _easily_ , “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter is basically 80% done but the last few scenes aren't being kind to me so I don't know when that will be up - I'm hoping days rather than weeks or, god forbid, _months. ___
> 
> __thank you rhinocio for editing :)_ _


	10. Chapter 10

Adora was reclined against the headboard of their bed a week later, flicking through the pages of a First One’s diary she was supposed to be translating for the library, when Catra spontaneously straddled her torso. Which wasn’t _new_ , per se, but the way her wife was blinking down at her didn’t align with what Adora’s mind had immediately skipped to.

Likely, it was the only reason she didn’t stammer when she said, “Uh, hi?”

The book landed with a dusty thud atop the nightstand after Catra snatched it from her.

“So...” Catra began, _unsure_ , weirdly.

“So,” Adora parroted, drumming her fingertips where they’d moved casually to her wife’s thighs. Feeling Catra’s hands, through the material of her sweater, settle just under her rib cage, she witnessed Catra’s eyes aimlessly falling in that direction too.

Adora would have sat upright if she’d been able to. The weight in her lap made that a challenge, but it had been an _age_ since Catra had last not been able to look at her like this.

A breath, and Catra began, “About that whole ‘us having a kid’ thing…”

_Oh._

She’s being _bashful_.

Adora glanced down to their hips, smirking, “While I’m super pumped that you wanna talk about this again, I don’t think it’s gonna be quite as simple as that for us.”

“Shut up!” Catra rolled her eyes dramatically. “I won’t hesitate to _smother_ you with a pillow.”

“I think that would make having a kid together kinda difficult, you know, if I’m de—” She didn’t get smothered. She did, however, get whacked with a faceful of linen and fathers. “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Catra protested, laughing despite it.

“Okay! Okay, I’m listening now.” Adora nodded encouragingly, and with a grin that was probably a little bit (a lot) goofy.

Catra’s eyebrows did this unfamiliar thing as she gazed down at her, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to snort, groan, or kiss her. And then her jaw moved as though she were about to speak. Stilled. _Locked_ down, before she let out this whine that sounded cornered despite the fact Adora was the one pinned to the bed right now.

So, Adora asked for her, “Do you want to bring Finn home?”

Catra froze above her, before slowly, _slowly —_ like she didn’t think the answer would be _allowed_ — nodding.

“Okay,” Adora said simply.

“Okay?”

She confirmed, _wholeheartedly,_ “Yeah. Okay.”

Catra sprung out of Adora’s lap with the affirmation. Adora instantly missed the warmth but the way her wife was suddenly pacing down the long side of the bed drew her attention away from the absence.

Catra released a nervous, squeaky laugh, “But this is goddamn ridiculous. We can’t just take on a _kid_. Do you have any idea what a _delinquent_ they would turn into? And, shit, Finn started life as a _pickpocket,_ Adora, they already got a headstart on becoming Brightmoon’s most wanted.” One of Adora’s eyebrows was rising. “This is insane. What would we tell Glimmer? Hi Sparkles, Arrow Boy, you remember those three tiny hoodlums we found out in the Crimson Waste? Well, we’re keeping one of them. Congrats you have a…” Catra’s face scrunched up, _adorably,_ (Adora would argue) mouthing _niece? nephew? niephew?_

“Nibling,” Adora inputted.

“That’s an actual thing?” Catra’s head tilted. “I thought that was a pet name.”

“It’s a thing,” Adora confirmed, making grabby hands towards her wife. “C’mere.” Pulling Catra into her lap, she said, “You know we’d be okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Catra sighed, one hand moving to hide her face. “This is just _insane_.”

Adora hummed in agreement, ghosting her arms around the small of her wife’s back. “It is.”

“I mean, it would almost feel easier if it were just some theoretical kid, you know, but we _know_ Finn, and they know us, it’s— ugh, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” Her hand returned to Adora's shoulder.

“No, I think I get what you mean,” Adora nodded. “It’s intimidating because it’s _real_. But. It also probably wouldn’t have ever happened if it _was_ just some theoretical kid.”

Catra relaxed in her lap, a sign Adora knew meant she’d stopped fighting the concept that she was _allowed_ to want this.

“You’re gonna be a good mom,” Adora told her.

“Yeah, whatever,” Catra rolled her eyes, the pink in her cheeks as faint and honest as the smile on her face. Nuzzling under Adora’s jawline then, she warned, “We have a very large, ecstatic cat about to crash through our bedroom door, by the way.”

“What?”

“Melog is—” Suddenly standing under the doorframe. Damaging a few hinges, Adora thought, with how quickly the door _slammed_ open. Catra’s laughter tickled against the skin of her neck like the wings of the butterflies making a home in Adora’s sternum.

* * *

Adora was pretty sure time didn’t work the same some days. Like how meetings were slow, and an hour could _definitely_ be more than an hour and that the clocks were _lying_ to her. Or how the week after their wedding had gone so fast she’d blinked and suddenly it was their first excuse for an anniversary.

So, being Adora, she’d reasoned that time was not a _domesticated_ thing, despite the way Entrapta had just kinda… awwed at the theory. Time, historically, had never done what she’d god damn wanted.

And the following seven days were the slowest of her life.

The room was ready, the bed, the _climbing frame_ (Catra’s insistence), even a _tutor._ Naturally, Catra had scowled at the concept at first. Finn didn’t need a fancy-schmancy lecturer talking their ear off all day every day. But the recommendation had come handpicked from Glimmer after she’d finished making this absurd squealing noise for ten whole minutes at the news. Reciting how her childhood lessons were just as likely to involve rock-climbing a _mountain_ as sitting in front of an abacus. And yeah, maybe unconventional would work. And like, it wasn’t going to be _all the time_ anyway, just enough of an input to deter the whole _delinquent_ thing.

_It takes a village, right? They’ve got enough friends._

_Seven days_. And they were sat in Perfuma’s office, _officialising —_ Adora felt like she had bumblebees in the lowest pits of her stomach.

It wasn’t really an _office_ by anyone else’s standards — a greenhouse with a desk, maybe, but the informality of it was helping a little. Also Catra, Catra was helping.

She rested in Adora’s lap despite the ample choice of chairs, Adora’s arms looping around her waist, chin perched on her shoulder. Heart thumping out of her ribcage.

“So,” Catra started, “How does this work?”

Perfuma was still blinking at them like she wasn’t shocked necessarily, but surprised, _endeared_. “Well, you certainly seem to have done your homework.” Adora had made a _folder_ , she was very proud of it. “We can obviously cut a few of the steps considering we don’t have to do any background checks on either of you two.”

Catra snorted. “Oh, thank the stars, I would have failed that _miserably._ ”

“When can Finn come home?” Adora bulldozed over her wife’s jesting. The pads of her fingers tapped nervously against Catra’s hip bone. The woman in her lap designed the slightest flutter of her ear to signal _stop that, it tickles._

Perfuma hummed, eyes warm, yet, _alarmingly_ , mischievous _._ “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!?” Catra started coughing like she suddenly had a furball.

Perfuma smiled _oh so_ sweetly. “Mmmhm.”

“Aren’t we supposed to like, have visits and stuff first?” Adora’s eyes went wide. Catra’s tail thumped against her leg before Adora realised her tap-dancing fingers had absentmindedly begun again.

“Despite being off the books, you have already _had_ a few of those,” Perfuma reminded them, elbows moving to rest on the table, fingers entwined, _business like_ , “And I’d like to point out that they’re more for the sake of the child being comfortable around _you_ than the other way around. In this particular case, and based on how smitten Finn’s has been with you two these last few weeks, I don’t imagine that’s going to be an issue.”

Adora’s heart was _golden_.

“Hang on, shouldn’t we at least give the kid a bit more time to adjust to the idea?” Catra folded her arms into one another. _She’s not even technically a mom yet and she’s already so goddamn protective,_ Adora pressed her mouth into the back of Catra’s shoulder blade to stop herself from producing a mortifying squealing noise.

“Normally, I would agree with you,” Perfuma’s face sobered a fraction then. “But both Bella and Manx will be going home with their new families tomorrow too, and it would be far better if neither of the three felt like they were getting left behind.”

“Oh,” Catra said, quiet. While all Adora could compute was _families, families. Families._

“But, on that note," Perfuma continued, "And as I’m sure you’re aware, it’s highly important that we do everything we can to maintain a relationship between the three of them. So, as part of the adoption contract, you’ll have to agree to play dates. We’re more than happy to host these here,” Perfuma began explaining with the sudden air of someone who had a _job_ to do, and who didn’t mind putting their friendship on the line if it made sure they did _theirs._

“You got it, chief,” Catra nodded.

Perfuma unearthed some files from her desk drawer, beginning the monotonous legalities and instructions and _paperwork_. Adora wasn’t listening. She tried, but she could feel Catra nodding along attentively in her lap so it wasn’t a problem exactly — she could get a debrief later. But for now, she was too busy grinning widely into the back of Catra’s neck.

_Families._

* * *

Adora was trying not to let her mind reel over it, but Finn was _silent_ the whole way home _._

It hadn’t felt like they’d _pulled_ Finn away. After the goodbyes, they’d taken Adora’s hand as easily as instinct, but their ears had been _lowered_ , Adora was keenly aware, and it made her want to surround them in her arms — but it was also an undeniable tell that hugs might be _too much_ right now _._

Still. She felt uneasy in every blood cell thrumming through her veins right now. Her eyes blinking rapidly.

Perfuma had arranged for the departures to be synchronised down to the precise minute on the clock. Naturally, there had been tears (mostly Adora’s). But Finn hadn’t argued when it had been time to go _._

Then, Finn had stepped onto the ship. _In silence._ Settled by the windows, as Darla navigated home, to watch the world beneath — fields and rivers and woodlands rushing by like a canvas of watercolour. _In silence._ And finally, the footfall that brought the three of them through the threshold of Finn’s new bedroom. Back _home_. _In silence._

It _sucked_ that this out of all the times, felt like the closest to an actual kidnapping.

Adora hadn’t wanted to jinx the situation by putting any expectations in place, but yeah, _fuck_ , she was freaking out a little.

_There's been a miscommunication somewhere. Finn doesn't like us, they don't want to be here, they’re gonna ask us to take them back._

And, the most painful, because she had no defence to argue against it, _Finn only agreed to come home with us because they didn’t want to be left alone._

The logical part of her mind, though it wasn't what was dominant right now, pulled her attention down to Finn's hand, and the way it was holding onto Catra's so tightly it was as though they were worried she might suddenly float away. As though they were worried she might suddenly try to _leave._

Her mind replayed, like it was supposed to be a sedative, the conversation Perfuma had with them earlier. That when informed, when _asked,_ Finn had nodded a confirming, fearless, ‘Okay.’ But it was hard to reconcile that with the child she was looking at now.

Finn had Bunny hooked in one elbow. The rest of their modest belongings acquired while at the home were strung in a duffel bag over Adora's shoulder. With that, with such _few,_ Finn’s whole world had been relocated in a matter of hours.

And the room was _silent._

She shared an uneasy look with Catra, who shrugged limply, concern stitched into her forehead.

"Uh, Finn? Adora began, "Are you okay?"

Their ear swivelled in recognition of the question. Forgoing answering, Finn gingerly padded further into the room that was smaller than hers and Catra's, but like, it was still in the middle of a _castle._ No doubt significantly more luxurious than they were used to.

The space had been refurbished from an old study, she’d been told. Truthfully, Adora hadn’t had the chance to see the room before Glimmer had gotten her hands on it.

Adora’d never explored the corridors much, fear of barging unaware into somebody's private residence had always prevented that, but it turned out the little nook only a few doors down from theirs had been available.

It was _cozy_. Largely because they’d _made_ it so. But, importantly, it was also close, and, by some magic Adora still didn’t understand, the architecture had been shifted to allow a small walkway directly between the two rooms.

Finn, wordlessly, took it all in.

The left wall was, in its entirety, a bookshelf. Adora suspected it had been there as a part of the rooms previous life, but each ledge was now filled with children’s stories and toys that Finn would be able to reach, if not scramble up to fetch, and — that Catra had personally vouched for — plenty of _empty spaces._ Gaps where Finn could climb to, _curl_ up in, if they wanted.

Finn moved, and they both followed like a magnet as the child advanced towards the bed. One of those ridiculously feathery ones that Adora had nearly drowned in her first night here but that Catra had instead, purring devoutly, _melted_ into. Adora watched as Finn placed a hand over the blanket there and allowed the fabric to bunch within their palm. Not making biscuits, not quite. It only happened once before they pulled their arm back, ears as low as a lamb’s that had found itself at the edge of a ravine.

Melog seemed to be having more of an adventure exploring, ducking inside the cubby hole of the wooden castle Bow had designed and assembled by hand, specifically for withstanding claws and teeth and _kittens._ A deep _mrowr_ escaped their chest and echoed around the small, enclosed space. Before their purple head poked out again, tilting a little as they looked toward Finn as though they were encouraging them to come and play.

Finn didn’t move.

But, exceedingly quietly, they asked after a little while longer, as though it _had_ to be a lie, "Mine?"

"Uh, yeah," Adora confirmed, frowning.

Finn turned to her, ears heartbreakingly _flattened_ and cautious. “For how long?”

_Did they—_

_Did they not like the room?_

Adora’s forehead scrunched into divots. _Stars, we’ve done it all wrong, there’s something missing, or something we’ve forgotten, or—_

Catra kneeled. And all further thought collapsed in Adora’s mind as Catra told them, like it was the only promise that had ever been worth making, “For _forever_ , Finn.”

_Oh._

It felt as though a rose had begun blooming inside Adora’s ribcage. She was certain it was the sting of thorns bringing tears to her eyes as she watched Finn’s ears lifting just the smallest amount, as though they were equally likely to dash and hide under the bed frame as to burrow into Catra’s arms.

The door creaking behind her broke the peace of the moment, Adora pivoted to witness it shift on its hinges so casually it could have easily been a breeze.

Adora’s attention returned to Catra who was faintly rolling her eyes in a wordless, knowing instruction to ‘ _please go deal with your friends.’_

* * *

“I can’t believe you were peaking!” Adora folded her arms as she converged on Blow and Glimmer, who were suddenly pretending it was mere coincidence they were outside Finn’s room. The tapestries here were neither new nor warrant to that sharp a focus. “You couldn’t wait till tomorrow?”

Realising they’d been caught, Bow turned, pouting, “I’m sorry.” He said with the sparkling eyes of someone who actually _wasn’t_ and who would do it again in a heartbeat. “We just really wanted to meet them!”

“You already _have_ met them,” Adora pointed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, but it’s _different_ now — because now it’s meeting Finn, your _kid_ , you know?” Glimmer gushed, her heart in her eyes.

“Fine. But meeting Finn, our _kid—”_ The rose petals began unfurling under the sunlight in her chest “—is gonna have to wait until breakfast, okay?”

Glimmer huffed. “Ugh, alright.”

“That’s more than fair.” Bow nodded, before, “How are they doing?”

The corner of Adora’s jaw tensed slightly, Bow seemed to take note of it straight away, judging by the way his expression softened further. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “Not so great, honestly.”

“Oh?” Bow pressed gently for elaboration.

“Finn’s being very, uh, _quiet.”_

“Quiet?” One of Glimmer’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Stars. What a _handful_. How on Etheria are you gonna cope with a kid that’s being _quiet_?”

“Uh.” Adora’s brow scrunched. “I can’t tell if you’re being—”

The Queen moved to brace her arms on Adora’s shoulders, which probably looked silly given their height difference, but the jest behind Glimmer’s eyes was all fond as she began, “Look at you.” And Adora knew in that instant that she was going to walk away from this conversation, like so many before, feeling _fine._ “You’ve got that exact same glassy, gravity-less look about you that Scorpia and Perfuma had the first few weeks after Rosie arrived. There’s nothing about this that’s supposed to be _easy._ But a kid being _shy_ is not something to be gnawing your fingernails off over.”

Adora glanced down at her hands, she hadn’t even realised she’d been doing that all day, and the cuticles look god damn _raw._ “Sorry.”

Glimmer shook it off like she was aware Adora’s apology was mostly self-directed. “You're going to be okay. You know that, right?”

“Uh.”

“You are!” Bow affirmed, clapping his hands together. Before he stepped forward to envelop the three of them in a hug. _Tightly._

Adora said, like she was struggling to breathe, “Okay. I should— Catra’s all alone in there, I need to—”

“Right, of course!” Bow squee’d, releasing his grip. “Go get ‘em!”

Glimmer sent a mock salute as goodbye. “You got this!”

* * *

Finn had let go of the anchor that’d been Catra’s hand, Adora noted first.

They surveyed the room like it was an _infiltration_ and not a homecoming. Finn’s expression remained alert as they advanced between the various hiding spots; under the bed, perched atop the oak drawers, and behind the waves of drapery where they brushed against the floors.

Companionly, Melog explored with them, despite this room being nothing new to the Krytian.

“They’re not scenting anything,” Catra told Adora, voice too quiet for Finn to hear with even feline ears. Adora’s mind handed her images of how Catra had bathed their own room with cheek rubbing and rolling mere minutes after stepping through the door, like some _possessive_ creature. It wasn’t really the room Catra had been claiming though, Adora was now certain. But, at the time, it was the most reassuring sign that Catra truly had no intention of going anywhere. That she was finally _home._

“But they’re here,” Adora reassured. “It’s a start.”

Finn settled eventually. It felt weird to just be there _watching,_ but neither Catra nor Adora were ready to just leave them alone either. Not when this was so _new,_ when what little comfort Finn might be able to find her wouldn’t be found in the contents of the room, but with _them._ Adora hoped, at least.

Finn sat on the mandala rug in the middle of the floor, which might not have been the most comfortable, but it was _central_ , so Adora could understand the tactical choice. Their feet swayed from their ankles out in front of them, in a gesture that seemed very much to communicate _‘now what?’_

 _Now what,_ Adora agreed.

Melog had an extensive vocabulary of cat noises, Adora knew, but the trill they let out then sounded closer to that of a dragon’s than a house cat’s. All deep and low and _rumbling_. At a guess, Adora would say they sounded _adoring_ , and the beginnings of a smile on Catra’s face only confirmed that.

A few steps, and Melog dropped a book in Finn’s lap. Purring like the depths of Darla’s engine, the Krytian flopped down beside them and tucked their chin over Finn’s legs.

The child blinked down at the offering, tilting their head a little like a puppy before turning to Melog. “You want a story?” Finn asked sweetly, patting a hand over Melog’s forehead and through the blue shades of mane beyond.

A chuff.

Then, prying the first page open and scanning the words for longer than necessary, Finn began very, _very_ slowly, to _read._

* * *

Catra landed face-first into their bed when they returned to their own room. Adora was exhausted all the way down to her _bones,_ so she could understand the need.

_Big day._

Melog was still with Finn. Both of them were sleeping now; the fourth children’s book had eventually dropped from Finn’s limp hand as they slumped against Melog’s shoulder, eyes drooping. Adora had carried them to bed, and Melog had shrunk to the perfect size to snuggle into Finn’s arms.

Had he been there, she thought Bow would have burst into tears. (And maybe she was so certain because _she_ very nearly did. But whatever.)

Adora joined Catra, her back sinking into the mattress. They could change into their PJs later, but for now, all she wanted to do was stare at the ceiling and decompress. For, like, an hour might be nice.

She let out an incredibly unsteady sigh, possibly a groan, possibly something in between. And Catra relocated instinctively toward her, still with her face obscured in linen, but close enough that when she began to purr Adora could _feel_ it. Adora let out a chuckle at the complete lack of effort. “Do you have any idea how much I love your noises?”

Catra languidly rolled her head toward her, hair dishevelled, _smiling._ “Oh?” Her arms stretched, loosening the knots out of her muscles and squeaking a little through the noise she was making. Adora beamed. “What’s your favourite?” One of her wife’s eyebrows raised, and if she was going to tease then so was Adora.

“You know that thing you do when you’re bird watching and you get all excited?” Adora started, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Catra’s eyes narrowed minutely. “Uh, what _thing?”_

“You know, it’s like,” Adora began imitating with an impressive lack of skill, “Fuck, I can’t do it. It’s almost like a chattering? I guess? Your nose scrunches up and you let out these adorable little cat noises.”

Catra turned slack-jawed. “I do _not_ do that.”

“Oh, you do. I’ve witnessed it, multiple times — normally when you think no one's watching. It was the first indication you’d spotted a nearby planet while we were travelling. Darla’s systems are pretty top-notch, but there you were, the first sign of a big, floating rock and you’d be all—”

Catra shoved a hand into her wife’s face, playfully trying to shut her up. “Knock it off!”

Adora was all snorted giggles until they calmed again, Catra’s smile buried into her shoulder and Adora’s shining up toward the ceiling. “Catra?”

“Hmm?”

“We have a _kid._ ” The realisation was giving her vertigo. But in her defence, it hadn’t been true only that morning.

“We do.”

“How did that happen?”

Catra snorted. It tickled a little. “You were _there_ when we signed the forms, Adora.”

“I know, but—we have a _kid_ ,” she said again in disbelief.

Catra’s eyes met hers then, warm as anything, before she repeated, “We do.” Then, returning to nuzzle into Adora’s bicep, she said, “Careful, though. If we don’t do a good enough job, Melog might sue us for custody.”

“Oh, we better be perfect then.”

“No,” Catra decided softly, “Not perfect, just... as good as we can.”

Adora rolled her head, finding her wife’s eyes closed, purring again and looking endlessly content. After years together, the admission still kinda just fell out like it was something that was too big to remain contained inside her: “I love you.”

Catra’s smile instantly turned devilish, “Oh my god, you love me? how embarrassing for you.”

“Ugh, we’re _married_ , knock it off!” Adora’s eyes rolled as her wife chortled against her arm.

* * *

That night, Catra dreamt of blood.

It wasn’t the first time. Though, in the dark-red moments after she’d torn herself awake, that fact was not the least bit of a comfort. And it had, however, been a _while._

She woke trembling and desperate to reach out for something that had been so far away in her nightmare, but her hands found the solid shape of Adora beside her, the thunder inside her sternum beginning to calm.

One breath.

Another. Eventually, the feeling of drowning gave way and there was enough air in her lungs to let out a weak sound.

She let the palm of her hand rest against the warm planes of Adora’s back, focusing on a count of her wife’s breaths as she slept. She’d wake easily, _gladly_ , if Catra were to rouse her for reassurance, but she also knew Adora had trouble falling asleep again when disturbed.

The timing was not shocking, she acknowledged. She’d wanted to, she’d been happy to, but they’d invited a reminder of everything she’d ever done wrong to live under their roof with them. To live as a part of their _family._

She’d _wanted._

But dreams could be unkind things.

Instinctively, she stretched one leg out under the comforter to check for Melog’s weight at the foot of the bed. Not finding it, she glanced down for their shadow, before remembering they were with Finn.

Sighing, she rolled toward the lamp.

She became aware then, suddenly, of the four glowing eyes watching her from across the room.

Shooting upright, she gasped — trying _very hard_ not to curse and hissing in the effort, “Fu— ugh, _jeez,_ Finn.”

Catra’s eyes adjusted naturally to the low light. Adora remained blissfully unaware, sleeping like a rock while Finn stood nervously clutching Melog’s mane. The Krytian sent her a concerned mew, and Finn stood motionless as though they were a heartbeat away from retreating back to the corridor.

Her voice gentle but cracking slightly, she said, “Hey. Hey, it’s alright, kiddo. You having trouble sleeping too?”

Finn nodded, one hand moving to rub at their droopy eyes. “Lonely.”

 _Right._ After a lifetime of sharing a bed with two other kids, it made sense that a whole room to themselves would be a bit daunting on the very first night. And apparently, they needed more than just Melog to fill that hole.

“Oh, uh, do you wanna come in here?” She cautiously pried open a section of the comforter, offering. If she and Adora could sleep sharing with a whole-ass _Melog,_ she thought they should be able to fit a little Finn. Though she didn’t actually have any confidence they’d agree.

But, on light feet, Finn approached, climbing under the bedding from the foot of it and tunnelling upward towards the pillows. Their head poked out with the baby-fur around their cheeks all fluffed up.

“Watch out for that one though, she flails,” Catra warned with a gesture toward her wife. A little bit breathless, she watched Finn shimmy to get cozy in the space between her and Adora.

Melog settled by their feet, circling on the spot and leaving a ring of paw imprints before they curled into a ball, leaning just the faintest bit against her leg.

Catra followed suit, her heartbeat no longer in her ears. She sunk back into the mattress.

The room was quiet, _peaceful_. There were no demons to chase her anymore, so long as her eyes were open. Even still, she’d finally returned to that weightless space between consciousness and sleep when she heard Finn’s voice again.

“Catra?”

One of her eyes opened, half her brain waking up. A sleepy, “Hmm?” came out as her head rolled.

“Did you have a bad dream?” they asked softly, hands bunched at the edge of the comforter.

And really, there was no reason to get watery-eyed at that. “Uh, yeah. I did.”

“I get them sometimes too,” Finn explained. “They’re not very nice.”

She laughed a little, the last threads of her limbs relaxing, “No, they’re not.” But if Finn could fend off nightmares, then maybe she could as well.

“Do you want Bunny?”

Her other eye opened, Catra was pretty sure the teddy had been left behind in Finn’s room, from what she could see, they hadn’t brought it with them. “Thank you, Finn. But I’m okay.” Her senses attuned to Adora’s breathing, Melog’s purr and their weight over her toes. “I’ve got my own Bunnys. I’m gonna be alright.”

“Okay.” After a few more minutes, Finn’s eyes started closing slowly. Then they perked up again. “Hey, Catra?” And no one had ever said her name softly quite like that before.

Her voice broke a little. “Yeah?”

“Night-night.”

Catra smiled faintly and foolishly back up to the ceiling. “Night-night, Finn.”

* * *

Adora, as always, woke to the sound of purring.

Unsure if she even wanted to be awake, or if she’d rather soak in the morning sunlight for a few minutes longer, she made no effort to force her eyes open.

Until she made note of the additional body in the bed with them.

It wasn’t alarming. She was familiar with Melog making themselves welcome wherever they pleased, with complete disregard to the fact Adora would actually rather be snuggling her wife. But when her eyes did, unevenly, flutter open, she accepted that for once, Catra’s giant doof of a cat wasn’t the culprit. And that there were _four_ of them, not three.

Finn was nestled snugly into Catra's collar bone, buried into the purr rolling from her wife’s chest as languid as ocean waves on a still, summer day. Catra’s arms, potentially unaware, held Finn close against her.

Adora smiled, sleepy and wonderful and _glowing._ But _was that_ —?

She thought she was hearing things, that maybe it was just Melog a distance away, until she confirmed that yeah, Finn was _purring_. Their ears made these tiny little flittering movements like they were dreaming, or perhaps _exceptionally_ content.

It was different than Catra’s, different than Melog’s, an octave or so higher, but it joined the melody of theirs perfectly.

Adora’s heart became a rainbow of pure colour. Any doubt from yesterday gave way to the giddy thought of _this is my life now. I get to live it._

She felt Melog roll; the dip in the mattress changed. Glancing, she found them laying on their back, arms stretching out like they were trying to work the kinks out of their toes. They watched her upside down with a dopey expression that she was certain she was wearing too.

And then, barely noticeable, Catra made a quiet noise like she was waking up. Adora beamed as Catra gazed at her, partially hidden behind Finn’s light waves of hair.

“You’re a dork.” Catra’s ‘ _good morning’s_ were rarely outright, and never this _hushed_. Adora observed how she nosed into the depths of blond in front of her, eyes drifting shut again, before they shot open. Not in surprise to find Finn there, but most likely in response to Adora’s earlier discovery. Amazed, Catra whispered, “They’re...”

“Yep.” Adora was gushing, she was certain. “They are.”

Catra’s purr grew _louder._ She nuzzled back into the top of Finn’s hair, her pupils dark and wide.

Adora pouted. “I feel like this is cheating.” She indicated to the two cuddling magicats beside her. She’d never been so jealous of Catra’s purring in all her life. There’d been a phase when she was seven, but she’d gotten over that when they’d sat through a lecture about hybrids and folk creatures. (Only because she _had_ to. _Trying_ wasn’t necessarily going to make it _happen_ , she’d finally accepted.)

Catra rolled her eyes, her smile refusing to fade away. “You have She-Ra and a magic, flying horse. Let me have this.” A few minutes passed in silence and the warmth of the early sun rays before Catra glared heatlessly at her. “What?”

“What?” Adora frowned innocently.

“You’re staring,” Catra pointed out.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be staring?”

Catra’s eyes rolled to the top of her skull. Her cheeks flushed.

Finn stirred a little then, and despite the fact they’d been talking quietly, Adora worried they’d just broken the stillness of this god damn _beautiful_ morning by being so reckless. But the kitten didn’t shy away as their eyes opened to find themself so close to Catra. Their purr stuttered for a moment, like their brain was recalibrating to being awake — but then they yawned, and the noise began again as they nestled even further into Catra’s arms.

Adora knew then, looking at her wife and how _soft_ she was being, how her whole soul _melted_ into the hug, that maybe this pain they’d grown with had never been destined as an heirloom after all.

~ Fin ~


End file.
